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Complete Works 


Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D. 

Edited by 

New Edition 

With Brief Notes and Prefaces 

Biographical Sketch in Last Volume. 

Volume V. 

Columbia, S. C. 

Reprinted by The R. L. Bryan Company. 




Dr. Smyth's Complete Works comprised in these volumes 
are published under written instructions left by him. The 
cost of publication is paid by a fund which he provided. 

The Editor's work has been confined mainly to proof read- 
ing and to occasional recensions of the printed text. The 
works are re-issued not for the general book-market, but for 
donation to public libraries. 

J. Wm. Flinn. 



Second Presbyterian Church 







1— Vol. v. 

A^. B. This Sermon, zvhich is now very rare indeed, was 
first published in Charleston, and subsequently in 1829 in the 
"Presbyterian Preacher," issued at Fayetteville, N. C. 


0f Cl^tS <l^ttvc\} 







I. Manual for the use of the members of the Second Presbyterian 

Church, Charleston, prepared by Rev. Thomas Smyth, 

pastor, 1838, pp. i-viii 11-158 

Title page of Manual i 

Dedicatory page of Manual iii 

Preface to Manual vii-viii 

God's Presence in His Church — Sermon preached at dedi- 
cation of Second Presbyterian Church, by Andrew Flinn, 

D. D., 1811 11-28 

The Design and Duty of a Church — Sermon by Rev. Thomas 

Smyth, 1832 29-42 

History of the Second Presbyterian Church, in two dis- 
courses, by Rev. Thomas Smyth, 1837 : 

First Discourse 43-60 

Second Discourse 61-67 

The Moral Influence of a Church — A Discourse by Rev. 

Thomas Smyth, 1837 69-79 

Rules for the temporal government of the Second Presby- 
terian Church 81-91 

Rules for the spiritual government of the Second Presby- 
terian Church 93-99 

List of Officers of the Second Presbyterian Church prior to 

the year 1838 101-104 

List of Officers of the Second Presbyterian Church in the 

year 1838 105-106 

Lists of Church Members and Sabbath School Teachers. . . . 107-113 
Appendix to Manual, containing Practical Directions, &c., 
for the use of the Members of the Second Presbyterian 
Church 115-158 

II. Pastoral Memento, dedicated to the Members of the Second 

Presbyterian Church, consisting of two discourses, by Rev. 

Thomas Smyth, D. D., pastor, 1850 : 161-191 

Introduction to Pastoral Memento 165-169 

First Discourse, Love Waxing Cold 171-181 

Second Discourse, Pastoral Fidelity and Affection 182-192 

III. The Exodus of the Church of Scotland and the Claims of the 

Free Church of Scotland to the Sympathy of American 

Christians : 193-233 

Title page 193 

Prefatory notes, &c 195-200 

Sermon on the Claims of the Free Church of Scotland, by 

Thomas Smyth, D. D,, 1843 201-222 

Appendix I. — Article printed in New York Observer on the 

Free Church of Scotland, by Thomas Smyth, D. D 223-228 

Appendix II. — Protest made by ministers and elders of the 

Free Church in 1843 229-233 

IV. The Voice of God in Calamity ; or. Reflections on the loss of 

the steamboat Home ; A sermon by Rev. Thomas Smyth, 

1837 : 235-259 

Title page 235 

Preface to fourth edition of sermon 237 

Introductory Remarks •. 239-240 

Sermon — The Voice of God in Calamity 241-249 

Narrative concerning loss of the steamboat Home 251-258 

List of passengers 259 


V. Two Discourses on the Great Fire in Charleston, by Rev. 

Thomas Smyth, 1838 : 261-301 

Title page 261 

Prefatory oak 97a 

First Discourse 97c oqa 

Second Discourse no? 

Map of City of Charleston, showing part destroyed by fire. . 281 

Appendix, containing newspaper account of the fire, 

losses &c 283-301 

VI. The Theatre, a School of Religion, Manners and Morals ! 

Two discourses, by Rev. Thomas Smyth, 1838 : 303-348 

Title page qa" l?f 

Prologue qVAioo 

First Discourse qoq oil 

Second Discovirse 329-348 

VII. The Relation of Christianity to War, and the Portraiture of 

a Christian Soldier : 
Sermon delivered at the first commencement of the Citadel 

Academy, Charleston, 1847. by Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D. 351-377 

VIII. The Principle of Secrecy and Secret Societies ; 

Two discourses, by Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D. : 380-404 

First Discourse, The Principle of Secrecy 380-388 

Second Discourse, Secret Societies 389-404 

IX. Oration, delivered on the forty-eighth anniversary of the 

Orphan House, Charleston, by Rev. Thomas Smyth 407-426 

Address, written by Dr. John B. Irving and delivered by 

Thomas Neil, an orphan boy '^^"''^oa 

Orphan's Hymn, by Mrs. C. Oilman • 430 

X. The Successful Merchant, and the Lessons of His Life and 

Death : 
A discourse upon occasion of the death of James Adger, 

1858, by Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D 433-467 

XL A Pattern of Mercy and of Holiness, Exhibited in the Conver- 
sion and Character of Col. William Yeadon : 

A discourse, by Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D 469-489 

Obituary of Col. William Yeadon, from Charleston Courier. 490-492 

XII. God in the Storm, 

A narrative, an address and a sermon, prepared on board the 

steamship Great Western, 1846 495-527 

Narrative concerning the storm encountered by the Great 

Western, prepared by Rev. L. P. W. Balch 495-505 

Address, delivered on board the Great Western, by Dr. 

Lyman Beecher 506-513 

God's Providence, a discourse by Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D., 

prepared on board the Great Western 514-527 

XIII. Denominational Education, Its Necessity and Practicability ; 
An address delivered at Oglethorpe University, by Rev. 

Thomas Smyth, D. D., 1846 : 529-574 

Preface 531-536 

Address on Denominational Education 537-568 

Appendix 1 569 

Appendix II 570-571 

Appendix III 572-574 

XIV. An Address on Sunday Schools, delivered in Charleston by 

Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D., 1844 577-584 

XV. A discourse on the twenty-second anniversary of the Ameri- 

can Sunday School Union, delivered in Philadelphia by 
Thomas Smyth, D. D., 1846 587-611 

XVI. Our Fathers, a discourse delivered on the occasion of the 

Jubilee Celebration of the Second Presbyterian Church, 
Charleson, on July 31, 1861, by Rev. Thomas Smyth, 
D. D 613-625 

XVII. Review and Lessons of Fifty Years, a discourse on the 

occasion of the Jubilee Celebration of the Second Presby- 
terian Church, Charleston, on March 31, 1861, by Rev. 
Thomas Smyth, D. D 627-643 


This publication, it is hoped, will prove useful to the mem- 
bers of the Second Presbyterian Church and congregation. It 
will do so, by imparting all that information which is so desir- 
able to those who connect themselves with any society. The 
origin, history, and progress of the church, is here disclosed ; its 
present condition delineated ; its rules and regulations declared ; 
its officers, elders and members published. It will do so, by 
giving form and character to the church; by attaching to its 
history and doings, their reasonable importance ; and thus mak- 
ing it an object of greater interest and regard. 

It will do so, by treasuring up, for future generations, the 
correct history of the present and the past, — ere time has rolled 
its oblivious wave over the transactions of by-gone days. 

It will do so, by constituting a bond of union among the mem- 
bers of the church — making them acquainted with each other, 
and with all that is done in the church ; and thus promoting 
union, harmony, and brotherly love. 

In olden times, "they that feared the Lord, spake often one to 
another, and the Lord hearkened and heard it." The great 
obstacles to a personal acquaintance, and familiar intercourse 
among Christians, in a city like this, are, their wide dispersion, 
the continual change in their places of residence, and the conse- 
quent difficulty of ascertaining where they reside, from year to 
year. The following manual will obviate these difficulties. 
Every member of the church may be furnished with it ; and, it is 
hoped, will feel the obligation of cultivating that spirit of 
mutual intercourse, which has, in former years, been so pro- 
ductive of good to this people. "A new commandment I give 
unto you, that ye love one another." "Hereby know we, that 
we have passed from death unto life, because we love the breth- 
ren." "Thereby shall all men know that ye are my disciples, 
if ye have love one tOiwards another." 

And if the directions given in the introductory discourses, 
and in the conclusion of the volume, are in any good degree 
followed, will they not very powerfully contribute to the 
advancement of holy living, and thus prepare for holy dying? 

Let every member of the church and congregation, put them- 
selves in immediate possession of this little volume. Lei them 
read it at least once a year. Let them endeavour to reduce its 
rules to practice, and to act upon its suggestions. Lee them 
study the government of the church — ^become acquainted with 


its nature and design — co-operate in the prosecution of all its 
plans — manifest an affectionate interest in all its members, the 
poor as well as the rich, — and then will she arise and shine, the 
glory of the Lord being risen upon her ; she will lengthen her 
chords and strengthen her stakes ; and the Lord will add to her 
continually such as shall be saved. 

N. B. Blank space is left, for filling up, from time to time, 
so as to render this manual of continued utility. 






Apil 3D, 1811, 






2 Chronicles^ vi. 20. 

That thine eyes may be open upon this house, day and night, upon the place 
whereof thou hast said, that thou wouldest put thy name there. 

Matters of everlasting interest, and eternal consequence, my 
brethren, demand our attention this day. We are assembled, 
to make a free will offring to the God of Jacob ; to present him 
with a house, in which to record his name — ^^to manifest his 
glory, and to make his power known, and the riches of his 
grace, in preparing sons and daughters for the Jerusalem above. 
Will God indeed "dwell with men upon .the earth," and is the 
dedication of a house exclusively to his service, the purpose for 
which we are now convened in his presence ? then the transac- 
tions of this day are solemn ; their consequences press onward 
to eternity, and hasten to meet us in the judgment of the great 

Does not the spirit of prayer already begin to settle on this 
assembly, and to direct the eyes of the waiting multitude to the 
mercy-seat of the Most High God? Do I see you, with your 
faces toward Mount Zion, where the church of the first-born 
worships, and with emotions too big for utterance, struggling to 
direct to the throne of grace, the fervent supplications of your 
hearts? And is this the language in which you express the 
feelings of your souls? "O God, whose dwelling is in light 
unapproachable — ^whose praises seraphs sing, we beseech thee, 
let 'thine eyes be open upon this house day and night, upon the 
place whereof thou hast said, that thou wouldest put thy name 
there.' " May he who sitteth in the heavens hear our united 
prayer ! May his choicest blessings rest upon this house dur- 
ing the time of our pilgrimage, and may our children, and our 
children's children, to the latest generation, here find the Cove- 
nant-God of their fathers ! 

The text, in connection with the history of which it is a part, 
presents us with one of the most august and solemn scenes, that 
perhaps was ever displayed at the dedication of any place of 
religious worship — A temple, the most magnificent and splen- 
did ever built by man, — a temple whose grandeur was the result 
of the united wisdom and riches of the king of Israel and the 
king of Tyre, — a temple on which had been bestowed the 


labour of an hundred and eighty thousand workmen for more 
than seven years, was now completed ; — Deep were laid its 
foundations in the base of mount Moriah ; — six hundred and 
eighty feet did its walls ascend ; — ^the cedars of Lebanon, and 
the gold of Ophir, at once strengthened, and adorned the build- 
ing. Thither were the thousands of Israel to repair for the 
purposes of worship, and there was the God of Jacob to deliver 
his responses. There were the Urim and Thummim to sparkle 
on the breast of Aaron — there the Almighty was to keep his 
court, and thence dispatch his ambassadors to his world around 
— thence as from a centre were the lights of the law, and the 
beams of the gospel to shine upon surrounding nations. There- 
fore it was, that Jerusalem was emphatically called, the "City of 
our God ; the mountain of his holiness ; beautiful for situation ; 
the joy of the whole earth." He who thundered with terrible 
majesty from amidst the flames and smoke on the top of 
Sinai, was now to let the placid serenity of his glory rest 
between the cherubim, amidst the splendor of this temple, now 
about to be consecrated to the Lord Jehovah. The period for 
the solemn transaction arrives — the temple is finished — the 
dedicated treasures deposited in it — ^the Ark is brought into the 
most holy place — the Levites, clothed in white, with their cym- 
bals, their psalteries, and their harps, accompanied by an hun- 
dred and twenty priests, have gone on before, making the land 
ring, and the heavens re-echo with the praises of the Most 
High God, whose glory has filled the house — the thousands of 
Israel are assembled — a brazen scaffold is erected in the midst 
of the open court. In presence of the vast congregation, the 
royal worshipper comes forward and ascends the place prepared 
for him. "Upon it he stood," says the sacred historian, "and 
kneeled down upon his knees before all the congregation of 
Israel, and spread forth his hands toward heaven." His eyes 
are directed to the throne of God — his soul is overwhelmed with 
a sense of the Divine Majesty — ^he breaks the solemn silence 
with a prayer, expressed in language the most appropriate, 
lofty and sublime. He makes grateful mention of the goodness 
of the Lord, to his father David, and his faithfulness to the 
covenant "which he had made with him. As he proceeds, his 
soul is overpowered with divine glory, and he bursts forth into 
such strains as these — "But will God in very deed dwell with 
men upon the earth? Behold, the heaven and the heaven of 
heavens cannot contain thee — how much less this house which I 
have built : Have respect therefore to the prayer of thy servant, 
and to his supplication — that thine eyes may be open upon this 
house day and night ; upon the place whereof thou hast said, 
thou wouldest put thy name there." Thus prayed Solomon at 
the dedication of the temple at Jerusalem, and thus prays the 


Christian worshipper on all such occasions. Brethren, we 
stand in as much need of the gracious presence of God now, as 
ever the tribes of Israel did. We are equally interested, that his 
eyes should be open on this house, as they were that he should 
look propitiously upon the Jewish temple. When rising for the 
first time in this humble house, reared for the worship of the 
same God, I know of no language which can better suit the 
feelings that ought to accompany us into this sacred place, or is 
better accommodated to the exercises of this day 

Be this the prayer then, which shall burst from a thousand 
hearts, while the fire of God burns in a thousand bosoms, and 
a thousand tearful eyes are directed to the mercy-seat. "Let 
thine eyes be open, O Lord, upon this house day and night; 
upon the place whereof thou hast said, that thou wouldest put 
thy name there." 

I shall now proceed to enquire : 

In the iirst place, in what manner must a church of God con- 
duct herself, and under what circumstances must she be found 
when she has a right to expect that "the eyes of the Lord will 
be upon her for good," and his name be recorded in the midst 
of her? 

Secondly. What advantages has a church of God a right to 
promise herself from thus having the eyes of the Lord open 
upon her day and night? 

Behold the questions which naturally suggest themselves 
from the words before us. Their solution, I shall attempt to 
give, and then direct your attention to the purposes for which 
we are convened. May the glory of God fill the house, and his 
spirit open our understanding to receive the truth ! 

I. In what manner must a church of God conduct herself, 
and under what circumstances must she be found when she has 
a right to expect that the eyes of the Lord will be upon her for 
good, and his name be recorded in the midst of her? This is 
the first enquiry which solicits our regard. To this we answer : 

No church, calling herself a church of Christ, has a right 
to expect that the eyes of the Lord will be upon her for good, 
unless she be sound in her doctrine— pure in her discipline — fer- 
vent in her devotions. Behold the leading features in the char- 
acter of a church which the Lord will bless — upon which his 
eyes will be day and night. 

She must be sound in her doctrines. The Gospel, like all 
other systems, has its first principles — its established laws — 
leading to certain grand results, which must accord with the 
original designs of its author. A departure from these princi- 
ples, a perversion of these laws, must therefore defeat the 
objects which the system has in view, and lead to consequences 
different from those which entered into its original designs. 


To effect these designs and attain these objects, the agency of 
the spirit of God is absokitely necessary. The eyes of the 
Lord must be propitiously open day and night upon that church, 
relative to which, the grand designs of the Gospel shall be 
accomplished. But no church can reasonably expect this bless- 
ing of the Lord, this agency of the Spirit of God, these pro- 
pitious regards of the Holy One of Israel, when she is departing 
from the established laws and order of his house. Such 
expectation would involve the absurdity of supposing, that a 
being of infinite wisdom, majesty, and grandeur, would not only 
wink at, but assist in carrying into effect an impious attempt to 
unsettle the principles of his own government — to find fault 
with the laws he has established, and in its consequences, to 
arraign the perfection of every attribute of his nature. Now, 
the grand design of the Gospel, into which enter the wisdom 
and power of the Almighty, is to save sinners from the wrath 
to come, and thereby bring a revenue of glory to God. The 
principles by which these are to be eft"ected, are unalterably 
established ; they carry with them the evidences of wisdom, 
goodness and power. To depart from them is impious — ^to 
deny their necessity is an attempt to be wiser than God — an 
attempt the folly of which is equalled only by its wickedness. 
It is an insult offered to the majesty of heaven, which he will 
stamp with reprobation, while he will overwhelm with con- 
fusion its guilty author. The church which shall thus depart 
from the radical principles and doctrines of the Gospel — princi- 
ples and doctrines, comprehended in the "faith once delivered 
to the saints" — may expect that the eyes of the Lord will be 
open upon her — but it will be that he may mark her for 
judgment, and that his jealousy may smoke against her, till she 
return to the fold whence she has strayed. 

I am not unapprised of the objection which has long been 
urged by infidelity aganist the Gospel, on the ground of the 
diversity of sentiment among its votaries, relative to its doc- 
trines. This objection, though often brought forward with an 
air of triumph, assumes a principle which is not correct, and 
is; therefore, not able to sustain the weight which has been 
laid upon it. It assumes the principle that every doctrine 
which is received by one church and rejected by another is a 
fundamental doctrine of the Gospel. This is an assumption 
however, which we are not prepared to grant, to the extent 
which the objection would render necessary. We are far from 
supposing that every shade of difference in opinion which 
obtains among the churches implies a departure from the essen- 
tial doctrines of the Gospel. We believe that thousands and 
tens of thousands will sit down together in the kingdom of 
glory, who cannot precisely walk together in the kingdom of 


grace; they cannot precisely think and act together on earth, 
but they shall sing and triumph together, in heaven. While we 
grant this, however, we do not, for a moment, surrender the 
position that there are doctrines essential to the salvation of 
the sinner, and the purity of the Church ; doctrines, conse- 
quently, which no church can give up without incurring the 
displeasure of God, and giving up her claim to Christianity. 

It cannot be expected that I should here enter both upon the 
enumeration and defense of those doctrines which I deem 
essential to the system of salvation revealed in the Gospel. I 
deem jt my duty, however, upon this solemn occasion, to state 
some of those grand, leading doctrines of the Gospel, which we 
consider at once essential to our future glory in heaven, and to 
the purity of the Church on earth ; doctrines which we believe, 
not because our fathers have told us of them ; not because the 
martyrs have sealed them with their blood ; but because we find 
them stated in the Word of God, and essential to the objects 
which the Gospel has in view ; doctrines, for the inculcation of 
which, this house was built, and is this day solemnly set apart. 

With the assumption of the being and perfections of God, 
together with the truth and divinity of the Scriptures, we 
belieev the testimony of the Holy Ghost relative to the entire 
depravity of the human heart, and its departure in temper nnd 
spirit from the laws of holiness ; that man is a sinner before God 
exceedingly ; helpless and polluted ; utterly and absolutely un- 
able to justify himself, in whole or in part, by works of righte- 
ousness which he can do. This we believe, both because we 
find it clearly and unequivocally stated as a doctrine of the 
Gospel, and because our own experience, and that of the 
saints in every age, have proved it to be true. 

Another doctrine of the Gospel, which we believe essential 
to the salvation of the sinner and the purity of the Church, is 
the necessity of divine influence — the active agency of the 
Spirit O'f God in regenerating the soul, thus dead in trespasses 
and sins — implanting in it holy principles — enabling it to put 
forth the acts of a living, purifying faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and opening the springs of evangelical sorrow for sin. 
This we regard as a fundamental doctrine of the Gospel, the 
rejection or corruption of which by any church is an evidence 
that the eyes of the Lord are not upon her for good. We follow 
no "cunningly devised fables" when we receive and adopt this 
as an essential article of our faith. We receive it on the testi- 
mony of Jesus, who has unequivocally declared, that without its 
practical influence on the heart, no man shall enter into life. 

On the doctrine of faith in the Son of God, we have already 
touched. Its necessity is stated among the first principles of 
the Gospel. I again bring it into view for the purpose of 


directing your attention for a moment to another, which we 
receive as an essential doctrine of the Gospel, and which 
exhibits the object of the Christian's faith. The Lord Jesus 
Christ, both in his human nature and divine, is the object to 
which I allude. At a time like the present in the Christian 
Church, when many are departing from the "faith once 
delivered to the saints ;" when the hedges from around many 
parts of the Lord's vineyard are taken down, and the vine which 
his own right hand has planted, is exposed to the ravages of 
the beasts of the desert ; when the enemies of our Father's 
inheritance are rushing in like a flood, and the impious hand 
of licentious criticism is attempting to strip the Redeemer of 
his glory, I deem it my duty on this solemn occasion, both for 
myself and for the congregation which has reared this house for 
the worship of the living God, to bear public testimony in 
favour of the divinity of Jesus. We receive this as an essen- 
tial article of our faith, necessary to our salvation and the 
purity of our Church, not merely because it has been handed 
down to us, sealed with the blood of the saints ; not merely 
because the nations of the redeemed have cherished it as the 
foundation of their hope, rejoiced in it on earth, and triumphed 
in it on the mount of glory, but because we find it stated in no 
equivocal terms in the word of God. When we hear the Holy 
Ghost declare of him, that "He is the Mighty God, the Ever- 
lasting Father, and the Prince of Peace;" — that "he is the 
brightness of his Father's glory, and the express image of his 
person — that he thought it no robbery to be equal with God — 
that all men are bound to honour the Son even as they honour 
the Father" — that the high command of God birds the angels 
of heaven to worship the Saviour — When we find every attri- 
bute of Deity ascribed to him ; eternity, omnipotence, 
omniscience, and omnipresence, — we have no difficulty on such 
testimony in receiving as true, the doctrine of the divinity of 
Christ. It is this that gives us security, when we surrender our 
souls into his hands, that "he is able to keep what we have 
committed to him against that day" — this is the crown which 
shall flourish on his head, when his enemies shall sink beneath 
the rod of his wrath. When these shall tremble before the 
terror of his frowns, we hope to sing the God-head of the Son 
when we shall meet him in the clouds of heaven. 

We receive, as an essential article of our faith, the sublime 
and incomprehensible doctrine of the adorable Trinity. It shall 
never excite in us a blush, that we receive, without being able 
to develope this great mystery. We are contented to believe 
that there may be modes of existence which we cannot compre- 
hend. For us, it is sufficient that God has revealed this doc- 
trine — that the essential attribute of deity are ascribed alike to 


the Father, the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, and that "these 
three are One." 

These are the grand fundamental doctrines of the Gospel, 
into which all others may be resolved, which we believe to be 
essential to Christianity. In whatever church these are be- 
lieved, and their practical influence felt, there is evidence that 
"the eyes of the Lord are upon her for good." I say, "their 
practical influence felt," for I wish it to be deeply impressed 
upon every heart, that the mere belief of the doctrines of the 
Gospel is far from being sufficient for the purposes of salvation. 
A church or an individual, may be strictly orthodox in princi- 
ple, and yet be far from the righteousness of God. But when 
these doctrines are brought home to the heart by the agency 
of the Spirit, then it is, that they are made mighty thorough 
God to the pulling down of strong holds ; then it is, that the 
work of God is revived, his temple filled with glory, rinners 
brought to the knowledge of the truth, saints built up in their 
holy faith, and the fetters broken from around the captive. 
"May the eyes of the Lord be thus upon this house, day and 
night, that we may see his glory, as our Fathers have seen it in 
the sanctuary," 

The Church then, must be sound in her doctrines. She must 
also be pure in her discipline. This is not the place, nor does 
it comport with the object I have in view, to enter upon the 
vindication of any particular form of church government. I 
am very far from supposing, that all who differ in their forms 
of government from the church to which I belong, are there- 
fore to be stricken from the rolls of the redeemed. Nor do I 
for a moment suppose, that other forms of government in the 
affairs of the house of God, may not admit of as much purity 
of discipline as those we have believed it our duty to adopt. 
Were I to admit all that the most extensive liberality could 
require, viz., that God has left it discretionary with his Church, 
to be regulated by circumstances in the adoption of her forms 
of government, it would not affect the proposition now before 
us, which is, that under whatever forms of government the 
affairs of a church may be placed, she is bound to preserve her 
ordinances pure, her doctrines correct, and her members, as 
far as possible, unspotted by the world. The truth of this 
proposition will not, I presume, be questioned — the very nature 
of the case, and the positive instructions of the word of God, 
prove it to be true. Necessary to the existence and good order 
of any society, are certain laws and regulations, which are bind- 
ing upon the members. The interests and purity of such a 
society, will always be in proportion to the strictness, with 
which its laws are executed. If the government be feeble and 
inefficient, the pernicious effects will soon be felt through every 

2— Vol. v. 





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20 A de;dication sermon. 

avoid her doom. "I know thy works," says the "Amen, the 
faithful, and true witness, I know thy works ; that thou art 
neither cold nor hot ; I would thou wert either cold or hot ; so 
then because thou art luke-warm, and neither cold nor hot, I 
will throw thee out of my mouth." 

Spirit of the living God, dwell with celestial fires within these 
sacred walls, and preserve us and our children to the latest line, 
from these fearful judgments ! Sacred to the inculcation of 
doctrines thus pure, to the exercise of discipline thus strict, and 
to devotions thus fervent, be this holy edifice to the latest gene- 
ration ! Then shall "the eyes of the Lord be open upon this 
house day and night, for good ;" and when its foundations shall 
tremble in the general convulsions of nature, it will be found 
that the name of Jehovah was recorded here. 

Do you ask, O congregation of the Lord, what advantages 
shall result from the eyes of your God being thus open upon you 
day and night? This is the 

II Question, suggested by the text which we promised to an- 
swer. Blessed is that house in which God has recorded his name. 
Blessed is that church upon which his eyes are open, day and 
night continually. Although the fires of persecution may rage 
against her, she shall issue from the midst of them, havmg lost 
nothing but her dross. Like the bush of Moses, in which the 
flame burned, she shall not be consumed. The rage of men and 
devils shall not be able to hurt her. Enemies may encamp, and 
foes invade, but the Breaker of Israel goes up before her; the 
Lord of hosts at her head, therefore she shall not be afraid. 
The captain of her salvation, on whose vesture and on whose 
thigh is the name "King of kings, and Lord of lords," shall 
wave the banners of eternal triumph over the camps of those 
who would spoil her. She may have many sore conflicts, and 
be brought very low ; she may even be made to cry out, "The 
Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten me ;" her 
songs may be turned into mourning, and her tuneless harp be 
hung upon the willow. In the camp of her enemies the shouts 
of triumph may be heard ; — it shall be for a moment : the Hope 
of Israel, and the Saviour thereof in time of trouble, shall soon 
return and cover her with his buckler ; the night of her dark- 
ness shall be chased away by the returning beams of his glory. 
Our Jesus holds up to the view of his Church, no Mahometan 
paradise ; no visionary notions of superior bliss, or exemption 
from trouble in this world. He has never told her that she 
shall pass to glory on a bed of down ; nor that the path that 
conducts her to his Father's kingdom shall be covered with 
roses. No: very different are the terms upon which he has 
taken her into covenant-relation with him. Through many 
tribulations must she pass ; many a conflict must she experi- 

A de;dication se;rmon. 21 

ence ; many a tear must flow, and many a weary, trembling- step 
must she take, before she finish her pilgrimage upon earth. But 
she has the promise of her Lord, that, during this pilgrimage, 
he will be with her, to support and to bless her; to increase, 
to strengthen, and finally to conduct her to glory and triumph 
in heaven. On earth he will bless her with a faithful ministry ; 
with peace among her members ; with the agency of her Spirit 
to make the word and ordinances effectual for her salvation; 
and finally with protection and defence, until her warfare be 

Behold the advantages which a Church of God has a right to 
promise herself, from having "the eyes of the Lord open upon 
her for good." 

He will bless her with a faithful Ministry. The promise of 
God to his Church is, "I will give you pastors according to my 
own heart, who shall feed you with knowledge and understand- 
ing." Ah, it is a solemn, it is a weighty business to guide the 
flock, to feed the Church of Christ, which he has purchased 
with his own blood. There is awful responsibility attached to 
the station occupied by him who "stands between the deid and 
the living." How important is it to the interests of a Church, 
that her pastors feel the spirit of their station; that they be 
"men fearing God, and hating covetousness ;" "taking good 
heed to themselves and to their doctrine, that they may save 
themselves and them that 'hear them." \i God intended to 
curse a people, and blast their spiritual interests from the blos- 
som to the root, I know of no way in which it could be more 
certainly effected, than by giving them up to an unfaithful min- 
istry — a ministry from which the Spirit of God must forever 
stand at a distance. To fill the ofiice of a faithful minister, 
and "rightly to divide the word of life;" to "declare the 
whole counsel of God ;" to feed the flock ; and, unabashed by the 
countenance of man, to warn the sinner of his danger ; to stem 
the torrent of iniquity and popular prejudice, requires much 
firmness, much prudence, much courage, and much grace. Such 
men are blessings to the world ; such pastors are blessings to 
the Church. Their names shall be had in everlasting remem- 
brance, when the memory of the temporizer shall rot. The 
worth of such men in the Church of God is seldom known, 
until their light has been put out in the sanctuary. After they 
are dead, the church begins at once to feel their worth and her 
loss. But whether the church be sensible of it or not, these are 
the men under whose ministry she shall eventually flourish as 
the palm tree. These are the ministers of whom Jesus hath 
said, "I will be with you always, even to the end of the world." 
Receive them, brethren ; they bring blessings in their train ; they 
will be evidences that "the eyes of God are upon you for good." 


These are the earthen vessels, in which, for your edification and 
the furtherance of your salvation, he has deposited the treasures 
of his gospel and his grace. Thus their gifts and graces your 
Saviour kindly bestows upon them, that he may make them in- 
strumental in blessing you. "When he ascended upon high," 
says the Apostle, "he led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto 
men." He gave some Apostles, some Evangelists, some Pro- 
phets, some Pastors, and some Teachers," for the perfecting of 
the saints ; for the work of the ministry ; for the edifying of the 
body of Christ. 

With such a ministry will the Lord bless that church, "upon 
which his eyes are open day and night," and in which he has 
"recorded his name." He will also give her peace in all her 
borders ; and her sons and her daughters shall be united to- 
gether as one family. The religion of the Gospel is a peaceful 
religion, and its peaceful and happy effects are felt in that 
church upon which the eyes of the Lord are open for good. 
Before its blissful influence, envy, malice and revenge ; wrath, 
hatred and strife, retreat back to the dungeons of darkness. 
If, in the wilderness below, there can be found any thing which 
resembles the paradise above, it is a Christian Church cemented 
together by the principles of christian love. "Behold," ex- 
claimed a heathen, w^hen looking upon such a Church, "Behold 
how these Christians love one another."* "Behold," says the 
spirit of God, "how good and how pleasant it is for brethren 
to dwell together in unity." And why should they not? Chil- 
dren of the same family ; heirs of the same inheritance ; travel- 
lers to the same distant country ; hastening to the same eternal 
home, and preparing to sing the same song, the burden of which 
is, "to Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his 
own blood." These considerations might surely induce the 
members of the Church of Christ to live in amity with one 
another. "Great peace have they who love thy law," is the 
promise, and with peace, both within and without, will the 
Lord bless that church "upon which his eyes are open day and 
night for good." 

He will also bless her with the visitations of his Holy Spirit. 
This is the divine agent, without whose influence no church can 
ever prosper. It is He who opens the fountains on high and 
"pours water on him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry 
ground." We may stand in the midst of the "valley of dry 
bones," and prophecy for ever, but unless the Spirit of eternal 
truth awaken the north and the south winds to blow upon them, 
they will continue to be dry bones still. There will be neither 
noise nor shaking among them ; but let him proclaim aloud, "O 
ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord !" and immediately 

^Pliny's Epistles to Trajan. 


there is a movement among- them ; they prepare to stand on 
"their feet an exceeding- great army." 

Why is it, my brethren, that so many of the branches of Zion 
languish, and why have the word and ordinances of God so 
Httle effect upon our worshipping assembhes? Why so few 
flowing to the standard of the cross, and crowding the gates of 
salvation? It is because of the absence of God the Spirit. 
Only let Him return, and Zion begins to rejoice, and to blossom 
as the rose. Her converts are numerous as the drops of dew. 
Sinners are smitten with a sense of guilt, and with bleeding 
hearts and streaming eyes ask the way to the Saviour, earnestly 
enquiring "the road to Zion, with their faces thitherward." 

The saints go on their way rejoicing, and with songs of re- 
demption flowing from their lips, they proclaim, as they march 
along, that times of refreshing, from the presence of the Lord 
hath visited them ; the groans of the mourner are turned into 
songs of praise, when he finds that his feet are taken from the 
fearful pit, and placed upon the Rock of Ages. 

Then the "light of Zion breaks forth as the morning, and her 
health springs forth speedily." The house of God is a Bethel, 
and his courts are filled with his glory ; the flocks of the chief 
shepherd are conducted to the green pastures, and made to lie 
down beside the still waters. 

With such glorious seasons does the Lord oftentimes bless his 
Church when "his eyes are upon her for good." Thus did he 
bless his infant Church on the day of Pentecost ; thus in every 
age has he continued to make his word and ordinances effectual 
to the salvation of sinners and the refreshing of saints, and 
thus will he continue to make his Church flourish, until he shall 
call her to the Church Triumphant. 

These are some of the blessings which a Church of God has 
a right to promise herself from the eyes of the Lord being upon 
her for good. 

We notice, in the last place, the protection and defence of the 
Most High, which shall be as a mimition of rocks to his Church. 
He places her in possession of these great and distinguishing 
privileges, and guards her in safety while she enjoys them. He 
protects her against the machinations of her foes, whether they 
be of a temporal or spiritual nature. "When the enemy rushes 
in like a flood, the spirit of the Lord lifts up a standard." He 
preserves her from error, and from the influence of false teach- 
ers, who would sap the foundation of her faith. "The Lord 
(says the Holy Prophet) will create upon every dwelling of 
Mount Zion, and upon her assemblies, a cloud and a smoke by 
day, and the shining of a flaming fire by night ; for upon all the 
glory shall be a defence. This shall be written for the genera- 


tions to come, and the people which shall be created shall praise 
the Lord." 

These, O brethren, are the blessings which shall make this 
branch of Zion flourish like the palm tree, so long as the eyes 
of the Lord shall be open upon this house, and his name stand 
recorded in this place. But if we should become luke-warm in 
our worship, licentious in principle, or immoral in practice ; if, 
forgetful of our high privileges, we should hereafter practically 
ask, "Who is the Lord that we should obey him?" shall we turn 
from our God and "heap to ourselves teachers having itching 
ears," we have reason to fear that he will turn away from us ; 
remove our candlestick out of its place ; smite our house in his 
wrath, and take away our mercies till we shall learn by their 
loss, to appreciate their worth; and with unavailing lamenta- 
tions be left to deplore our situations when these slighted mer- 
cies are gone, and the things that belong to our peace may for 
that reason be eventually hid from our eyes. 

Let this salutary caution be written in our hearts. "The 
Lord is with you while ye be with him, and if ye seek him he 
will be found of you, but if you forsake him he will forsake 
you." In every period of the Church, God has made good these 
promises to her. He was with her in the wilderness when she 
was fitly represented by the burning bush. When Jacob was 
small, and his spiritual sons but few in number, yet when "they 
spake one to another, the Lord hearkened and heard them." 
Nor has he in later times left himself without a witness. In 
the primitive ages of Christianity he displayed his mighty 
power, and went up before his servants with signs and mighty 
wonders ; and when Imperial Rome drenched the earth with 
the blood of the saints, the great Jehovah was with them, real- 
izing his promise, that "as was their day, so should their 
strength be." "Through the long and dark period of Anti- 
Christian tyranny, while fiery trials beset her on every side," 
his right hand conducted her to the glorious morning of the 
Reformation, and from that period to the present, he has dis- 
played his glory in the fulfillment of his promises to his people. 

But we hasten to a conclusion. I have directed your atten- 
tion to the principal features in the character of a church, which 
has a right to expect the presence of the Lord to be favourably 
with her. These features consist in soundness of doctrine; 
purity of discipline, and fervency of devotion. To the advan- 
tages which a church has a right to promise herself from the 
presence of the Lord being so with her, I have also directed 
your attention, and have stated them to consist in a faithful 
ministry ; peace among her members ; the visitations of his 
Holy Spirit ; and final protection and defence. Happy Church ! 
Glorious blessinsfs. 


A particular and formal application of the subject must yield 
to the immediate business which now presses upon us. Present 
solemnities, future prospects, eternal consequences, rise and pass 
in awful review before me. When I look upon them, my eyes 
moisten, my soul trembles, my heart is affected. Men of prayer, 
to your posts ! Heirs of immortality, put off the shoe, for the 
place is holy. Bow yourselves before the glory which fills this 
House of God. Majesty of Heaven, descend — descend with 
the power of thy Spirit, and rest upon this assembly ! Present 
solemnities, how awful they are ! Another dwelling erected 
for the Most High God ! This Day sets it apart for his service. 
Sacred edifice! Residence of our God — future birth-place of 
souls — object of our prayers, our exertions, and our hopes — 
have we at length seen thee receive the worshipper into thy 
bosom? Long may the pure doctrines of the Gospel be here 
taught ! Long may the streams of salvation here flow ; May 
no unhallowed tongue ever here be lifted to pervert the Word 
of Life ! Confounded be the wretch who, under the garb of a 
Gospel Minister, shall ever enter here, for the purpose of be- 
guiling unstable souls with false doctrine — doctrine different 
from that which we have this day proved to be the doctrine 
taught by the Holy Spirit. Witness, my brethren, who have 
built this house of prayer. Witness, ye fellowship of the body 
of Christ, who from other Churches are present with us to-day. 
Witness, ye Angels who hover over this assembly. Witness, 
thou Son of the Most High God, who bought us by thy agonies 
in the Garden and on the Cross ; witness for us that we this day 
cleave to the doctrines of Grace ; to the doctrines of the Refor- 
mation ; to doctrines, in the strength of which, the Martyrs 
triumphed in flames, and passed in chariots of fire to Glory ; to 
doctrines, the belief of which, fully accords with the confident 
expectation that this place shall be the scene of revivals of re- 
ligion, produced by the extraordinary effusions of the Spirit of 
God. And for the preaching of these doctrines ; "for the pur- 
poses of prayer and praise ; for the administration of the sacra- 
ments of the New Testament ;" for the purpose of feeding the 
Church of God with the pure milk of the word ; in pursuance 
of the object for which we are now assembled, we proceed to 
dedicate this house to the great Head of the Church. 

God of Jacob attend ! Church of the first born witness ! We 




Israel, "the great and terrible God," let thine eyes be open day 
and night upon this House. In it record thy name, and here 
delight to meet thy people to bless them. When pursued by 
their enemies they shall fly to this house for refuge. When thy 
chastisements are upon them for their sins, and they shall come 
to confess their iniquities, and tell their sorrows before thee in 
this house, "then hear thou in heaven thy dwelling place," and 
answer the prayer of thy people. 

"Now therefore arise, O Lord God, into thy resting-place, 
thou, and the ark of thy strength." Let thy priests, O Lord 
God, who shall minister in this house, he always "clothed with 
salvation ;" and let thy saints here rejoice in thy goodness. How 
awful is this place ! This is now the house of God ; this is the 
gate of heaven ! How deep the present solemnities which rest 
upon it ! But O, when I look into future times and dwell upon 
future prospects, I am filled with awe. With eternal things we 
shall be here conversant for a little while. Here God shall sit 
upon the Mercy-Seat, at the foot of which we shall present our 
prayers and our tears. Hither shall some of us bring our bur- 
dens and lay them down at the feet of Jesus. Hence shall issue 
the overtures of mercy to the guilty of the present generation, 
and balm be here administered to the broken heart. Here the 
trembling sinner shall enquire for the Saviour and find his 
gloom penetrated with the beams of hope. Here the believer 
shall sit down at the Supper of God, and have his soul wrapt 
hence away to the temple of which the Lamb is the light. Here 
at times our eyes shall behold the Redeemer, when he shall ap- 
pear in the galleries and shed his glories through the house ; 
and here (fearful prospect) the Gospel shall be to some of us 
and of our children, "the savour of death unto death." 

Thus shall matters move on in this house of God, with respect 
to us of the present generation, until the time of our probation 
shall be finished ; but soon, very soon shall this be completed, 
and our seats in this house be left vacant forever. Soon shall 
my voice cease to sound within these walls. The cold sod shall 
soon press upon this bosom, and my labours give place to the 
silence of the tomb. I shall soon sleep with my fathers ; but 
the prospects of this house shall not be affected by it. From 
this place where I now stand, I look down the stream of time, 
and I see the successive generations which shall rise up after 
us, floating to this house, enquiring for Him of whom their 
fathers had told them that he was their God. Hither do I see 
the despairing sinner of after ages, direct his trembling steps. 
To the mercy seat which is here erected, he lifts his streaming 
eyes, and breathes his broken prayer for mercy ; and behold 
within these walls shall be heard the first accents of his song 
of redemption. Hither do I see the believer of future times 


come to "pay his vows to the Lord in the presence of his 

These are affecting prospects which rise before me, when 
looking forward to generations which shall assemble here when 
■we shall be numbered with the dead. But methinks a still more 
affecting object presents itself before me. Here do I see the 
sinner yet unborn, with a heart alienated from God, and harder 
than the nether-millstone, with a soul cased in adamant, slum- 
bering away the moments allotted to the house of God. May 
the "stone cry out of the wall, and the beam out of the timber 
answer it," and rouse him from his sleep of death ! Here also 
do I see the future herald of the cross, with strong crying and 
tears, urge the flight of the sinner from the wrath to come. We 
shall be dead, but Jesus shall be here with our children ; here 
shall he speak to them in their sorrows and ease their aching 
hearts ; when we shall be shut up with our fathers in the tomb. 
Future prospects, how awful! how affecting! Eternal conse- 
quences, how pleasing ! how terrible ! How many thousands 
shall hear the word of life in this house ! From the bosom of 
eternity every one of these thousands, millions of ages hence, 
shall look .back to this holy place, with higher notes of praise, 
or louder groans of anguish. The believer, of whom it shall 
be written that he was born here, standing high in salvation 
before the throne, shall look back to this house, the plac^ of his 
birth, and the song, "To Him that loved me, and washed me 
from my sins in his own blood," shall swell into louder and 
louder strains continually. From out of the pit do I see the 
flames streaming with more dazzling glare ; and thence issu- 
ing, do I hear more fearful shrieks and lamentations, at the 
recollection of opportunities neglected and mercies slighted 
within these walls. My soul trembles. Let the vail be drawn. 

A word to my own people and I have done : 

My brethren of this congregation, this is a solemn day to you. 
Receive my most hearty congratulations, and my fervent pray- 
ers for your present and future peace. You have built a house 
for the God of your fathers, which the proceedings of this day 
attest. The history of your enterprise is short and simple. It 
originated in no spirit oi division or party rancor. Wii"h your 
brethren of the First Presbyterian Church in this city, you are 
at perfect peace. Their liberal and friendly exertions, to assist 
you in carrying into effect your laudable undertaking, furnish 
ample evidence that they are at peace with you. Long may the 
principles of christian fellowship and holy love cement your 
interests ! The growing population of our city called for another 
place of public worship. You heard the call ; it united you as 
one man. Your brethren of other churches generously strength- 
ened your hands for the good work, and here is the house which 


you have built and offered to the Lord. You have done well. 
May the God of your fathers bless you ! He has hitherto pros- 
pered you almost without a parallel. This spacious edifice has 
been erected without the loss of either life or limb among the 
workmen. This is cause of gratitude. True, amidst the praises 
and congratulations of this day, the tear gathers in your eye, 
when you look upon the vacant seats of Milligan and Boyd. 
Shades of our departed friends, we well remember your anx- 
ieties and exertions relative to this house, while you were in the 
body. To this day you often looked forward, while you dwelt 
in your houses of clay. Will you pass this way at times, and 
visit our worshipping assemblies here? But I forbear. 

Brethren, you have done much ; but much more remams yet 
to be done. You have built a house for the Most High God. 
It remains that you fill it with devout and pious worshippers. 
Let not your seats, left empty in this place of prayer, testify 
against you in the day of eternity, that you here neglected the 
offers of mercy, and turned away from the ordinances of God, 
which were designed to secure your salvation. Let not the fires 
which burn upon the Pagan Altar, reproach your want of zeal 
in the service of the God of truth. With souls hungering and 
thirsting for the Word of Life, come, with your wives and chil- 
dren, to this house which you have built for the Lord, and here 
enquire for Jesus. He will meet you in this place and bless 
you. And when he shall come in the clouds of heaven, with 
his own glory and the glory of his father, accompanied by the 
splendid retinue of the skies, may we all be received into his 
presence with, "well done good and faithful servants, enter into 
the joy of your Lord." Having finished our probation here, 
may we all be translated to the "Temple not made with hands," 
where we who sow, and you who reap, shall rejoice together! 

And now to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, 
be glory in the highest ; and let the Church Militant join the 
Church Triumphant, in the loud — Amen. 






On Sabbath Morning, April I, 1832, 







To the Corporation of the Second Presbyterian Church. 

Genti^emen : — I received through your Committee, a request to furnish a 
copy of the accompanying Sermon for publication. In the hope that, 
through the blessing of God, it may be made effectual to promote the inter- 
ests of your Church, and that its inculcated duties may in this way be more 
deeply felt, I most cheerfully consent to its publication, with all its liabilities 
to the severity of criticism. 

I am Gentlemen, most respectfully. 

Your servant in the Lord, 

April 7, 1832. THOMAS SMYTH. 


"To the intent that now unto the principalities and powers in 
heavenly places might he known by the Church the manifold 
wisdom of God." — Ephesians hi : 10. 

The probable existence of a Church upon the earth, might be 
argued from the very nature which God has given us. There 
are implanted within us principles, which, on whatever cause 
they may be employed, find their exercise only in social union. 
The noblest feelings and energies of man would lie forever dor- 
mant, crushed and buried in their very birth, were he matured 
in isolated separation from his fellows. No efforts could be 
made, no achievements effected, no victory gained over the 
powers of matter, or those physical evils which beset and crowd 
our pathway through a world lying under the curse, and which 
in its whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain, — without 
the conjunction of talent, enterprise and strength. 

Now, religion does not destroy or supersede nature. The 
religious history of man is not something opposed and contra- 
dictory to his natural history. Religion is no more than the 
highest and only proper exercise of the faculties of man. It is 
their right direction, their proper culture, their homeward 
aspiration to that God, and that holiness, and that heaven to 
delight in which, they were originally adapted, and to enjoy 
which, they are eminently capacitated. 

It might therefore be expected, as one mark of a true and 
heaven-derived religion, that provision in it would be made for 
those eternal and unchanging principles, which characterize 
man, and which, though they may he made subservient to vice, 
are more powerfully assistant to holiness. 

A Church — that is, a union of men in one body, meeting 
together in one place, for the celebration of the worship of God, 
— is a wise adaptation by our heavenly Father, of his required 
services, to our natural constitution. All the finer feelings of 
the soul, are here made auxiliary to the cause of truth. Sym- 
pathy, love, mutual esteem, reciprocal attachments, all the com- 
bined forces, and moral influences, which can be brought to 
bear, by men, upon each other, are here formed into a spiritual 
battery, to break down the resisting opposition of immorality, 
impurity, and sin. 

The enemy has come in upon our world, like an impetuous 
and overwhelming flood. He has swept over it in a deluge of 
corruption — he has broken up all the fountains of iniquity in the 

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it is raging- like wild-fire in the desert. "Be persuaded there- 
fore, to give the more earnest heed to the things which you 
have heard, lest at any time you should let them slip." Call to 
mind what he, who is now your first ambassador, sent to glory, 
to bear witness of your faith — of what HE taught you, and 
which you will find recorded in his funeral sermon upon the 
Rev. Dr. Keith.* "Of his sermons, Jesus was the centre and 
the sun. They were distinguished for their manly sense, evan- 
gelical purity, and searching truth. Knowing that the great 
end of the Gospel Ministry, is to bring sinners home to God, he 
was more solicitous to reach the conscience, and to mend the 
heart, than to please the fancy, or to tickle the ear. He deemed 
that sermon worth nothing, that had not in it something of 
Christ. His theological opinions were in the strictest sense of 
the word, orthodox. He stated and defended the doctrines of 
grace — the doctrines of the reformation. He taught the entire 
depravity of the human heart — the absolute necessity of being 
born from above — the necessity of divine influences to change 
the heart, and to sanctify the soul — the nature and necessity of 
repentance and faith, influencing the heart to the production of 
good works in the life. The divinity of the Lord Jesus, and 
atonement through his blood, were in his system, doctrines of 
primary importance. On these, he rested his eternal hopes." 

Let these doctrines be engraven upon your hearts. Bind 
them as a frontlet upon you. View them as identical with your 
very existence as a Church. Let them be that immoveable 
foundation, upon which it rests. The warning of the Apostle, 
(Gal. 1: 7.) is too applicable at the present time. "There be 
some who would trouble you, and pervert the Gospel of Christ. 
But though we, or an angel from Heaven preach any other 
Gospel than that which we have preached unto you, let him be 
accursed. As we said before, so say I now. If any man 
preach any other Gospel unto you than that ye have received, let 
him be accursed." 

2. Another grand design for which a Church was formed, is, 
that it might urge on with power and efficiency, its component 
members, to attainments in holiness. To secure such results, it 
is, as we have already shewn, wisely and beneficially adapted. 
A holy emulation is awakened. A fresh impulse is constantly 
received, pressing on, in the forgetfulness of what is past, to 
greater excitements. The system is one, animated in every 
part with life and energy. Duty presses, not upon any one 
main-spring of this moral machinery, but is equally laid in their 
respective position and relations, upon every individual and 

*See a Funeral Discourse, commemorative of the Rev. Isaac S. Keith, D. 
D. on p. 23. It is evident from the connection of the above quotation, and 
the manner of its introduction, that in thus speaking of Dr. Keith, Dr. Flinn 
is exhibiting these sentiments, which were approved, and valued by himself. 


constituting part. The pulse of feeling beats in every heart, 
and flows in a full channel through every vein. 

The obligations which such an endearing and important con- 
nection impose upon you, ought not to be forgotten. You 
must be filled with zeal, and constrained by love. You must 
esteem each other as yourselves. You must watch over each 
other's interests, as the members of one family. You must bear 
one another's burdens ; sympathize with the griefs and the joys, 
common to the whole — and restore each other when you fall. 
"Now we exhort you brethren, warn them that are unruly, com- 
fort the feeble-minded, support the weak, be patient toward all, 
see that none render evil for evil unto any; but ever follow 
that which is good both among yourselves and to all." 

3. This leads me to remark, that it is your special duty as a 
Church, to preserve that unity, which characterizes Christians 
as members of one family, of which Christ is the head. You 
must not confine your views and feelings to the walls, or the 
limits of this Church; or to that sect of Christians, of whom 
you are a part. View yourselves as members of that family, 
which is composed of all who are called, whether in heaven or 
on earth. All Christians as far as they are sanctified, are one, 
and joined together by the strictest bonds of union. They are 
quickened by the same spirit, born by the same Almighty power, 
nourished and sustained by the same grace, and watched over 
and befriended by the same Redeeming love. They travel 
together through the same wilderness, drink at the same foun- 
tains, eat the same heavenly manna. They are guided by the 
same "great Jehovah," and they journey towards the same land 
of promise and of hope. They are lighted on their path-way 
to Zion, by the same lamp of heavenly truth — and when they 
reach the holy city of our God, and arrive upon the peaceful 
shores of glory, one song will roll off from every harp, one 
blissful emotion shall swell with rapture every soul, and every 
knee shall bow in worshipful adoration to the Lamb that was 
slain for sinners. 

The ties of grace are therefore strong. They are more en- 
during than life. They are formed of love. They were 
wrought in heaven — they are spiritual — they are immortal. 
Death will not break, it will indissolubly cement them. They 
are links formed for eternity — or streams issuing from Him 
who is love, and flowing in their endearing and assimilating 
waters, through every believing heart. 

Shall not therefore this spirit of brotherly love be cultivated 

among Christians of every denomination. 

Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one, 
Our comfort and our cares. 

Shall we not therefore rally around the ark of God committed 
to our care? And feeling of all the disciples of Jesus, that 


though ""distinct as the billows, they are one as the sea," shall 
we not in this united ocean of strength, and of influence, roll 
on in our might, that we may bear down that surging tide of 
opposition, Infidelity and Scepticism, which breaks so furiously 
against us. There is a heavenly expansiveness in the love of 
the Christian, which will not be confined to the narrow limitings 
of sectarian prejudice. It is nobler — it is purer. Those divid- 
ing distinctions which confine, in isolated parties, professed 
believers in Christ and Him crucified, shall soon be consumed 
by the flame of that sympathizing benevolence now bursting 
upon us. 

This glorious hope revives, 
Our courage by the way, 
While each in expectation lives. 
And longs to see the day. 

These cells, within which, as within an enshrined sanctuary, the 
fellow-feelings of Christians have been enclosed, must soon be 
thrown open. The night of bigotry is we trust, far spent — the 
dawn is come, and the day will find every wreck and ruined 
vestige of the horrid monster, obliterated from the "memory of 
the heart." The spirit of prejudice, and of illiberal, ungener- 
ous selfishness, will not, and cannot amalgamate with that 
diffusive benevolence, which is spreading through the atmos- 
phere of our world, and which is breathed in by every Christian 

"Endeavor then to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of 
peace. There is one body and one spirit, even as ye are called 
in one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one God and 
Father of all, who is above all, and over all, and in you all." 

4. Another great design of this united body, formed into an 
organized system, is, that it may promote the cause of Christ, 
not merely within its own immediate limits, but in the world 
generally. Every Church is virtually, and by the form of its 
constitution, a Missionary Society. It is a fortress where the 
soldiers of Christ receive their armour, and from which they 
are to issue out against the enemy. The banner of the Cross 
floating over this battlement, waves not its signal merely to the 
garrison within. Oh no! It has inscribed upon it "Salvation." 
It speaks peace and good will to men, of every nation, whether 
Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free, and when the trumpet of 
duty is sounded, it speaks forth the positive command, "Go ye 
into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature, for 
I have set thee to be a light of the Gentiles, that thou shouldst 
be for salvation to the ends of the earth." 

In the closing book of Revelation, and in the aspect which 
she was to assume in these last days, the Church is described as 
"an angel," flying "in the midst of heaven, having the everlast- 
ing Gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to 


every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people, saying with a 
loud voice, Fear God, and give glory to him, for the hour of 
his judgment is come: and worship him that made heaven and 
earth, and the sea, and the fountains of waters." In this glori- 
ous work, you must bear your part. Nor will individual effort 
excuse from that duty, which is resting upon you as a Church. 
Ought there not to be' from every Church, ambassadors, sent 
far hence unto the Gentiles to preach the unsearchable riches 
of Christ ? Would not such devotion to the cause of Him, who 
bought them with his own precious blood, draw blessings down 
from heaven which would repay them in this life, an hundred- 
fold, and reward them in the world to come with glory ever- 
lasting ? 

The untaught Heathen wants to know 
The joys the Gospel can bestow. 

And oh, how long must they wait, while they are "perishing" 
by millions, if the Churches of Christ remain indifferent to 
their wants, insensible to their misery, and unmoved by their 
imploring cries for help. 

If the Church was but waked up to the discharge of this duty, 
then would that blessed time arrive when the Lord would pour 
out his Spirit upon all flesh, and when your sons and your 
daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, 
your young men shall see visions ; — when God will "gather all 
nations," and when the "mighty men," and "all the men of war 
shall beat their swords into plough shares, and their spears 
into pruning hooks," and men shall not learn war any more, 
and when there shall be nothing to hurt, or to destroy in all 
God's holy mountain. 

5. We would notice one other very important object, for the 
accomplishment of which a Church is established, and that is 
the union of all the disciples of Jesus Christ — the combination 
of all the forces attached to the service of Heaven, that thus all 
who name the name of Jesus, may be enrolled as members of his 
family, and made partakers of all that care, tenderness, and 
compassion, which he cherishes towards his own. 

Granting the existence of a Church, by the appointment of 
God, it is evident even to the most superficial glance, that it is 
the duty of every individual interested in Him, who is Head 
over all things to that Church, to join himself, (as indeed he 
is positively commanded) to the Lord. Necessity enjoins it, 
gratitude requires it, and love constrains to it. In the days of 
the Apostles, connexion with the Church was always immedi- 
ately consequent upon believing in the Lord Jesus Christ. Those 
were added to the Church daily who should be saved. 

Our Saviour commands his Apostles, and his ministering ser- 
vants through them, to "go and disciple all nations," as the 
original word is. When the friends of the Gospel are spoken 

38 The de;sign and duty of a church, 

of, they are always addressed as the Church, and as united to 
it. And in the primitive ages of Christianity, as soon as the 
converts were able to witness a good confession, they were re- 
ceived as brethren. It must be remembered that the consulta- 
tion of our own feelings, forms no part of Christian duty, and 
that while a belief of the Gospel is essentially promotive of the 
present, as well as the future happiness of man, it by no means 
terminates in this, as its exclusive or chief design. The object 
for which believers, through the rich mercy of God, are made 
"a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a pecu- 
liar people," is, that they "should shew forth their praises of 
Him who hath called them out of darkness into his marvellous 
light." They are "predestinated unto the adoption of children 
by Jesus Christ, to himself," for this most special purpose, that 
they might be "to the praise of the glory of his grace." All 
personal feelings and private views, and selfish motives ought 
therefore to yield to the glory of God, which must swallow up 
in its immensity and importance, all other considerations. This 
forms the object of supreme regard to God himself, and ought 
to be the chief design of man. If then we are brought thus to 
judge, that if Christ "died for all then were all dead, and that 
he died for all, that they who live, should not henceforth live 
unto themselves, but unto him who died for them, and rose 
again," on what principle can we disobey the Apostle, when he 
beseeches us by the mercies of God to present our bodies "a 
living sacrifice holy, acceptable to God, which is our reasonable 
service?" And can we thus truly present ourselves to God, if 
we keep back from his service, and remain separated from his 
Church? This is the profession of Christ before men, which is 
no less required, than the belief of the heart. This is taking 
upon us his cross. This is that submission to his yoke, which 
is demanded of us. This is confessing Christ with our lips, 
that is, our outward conduct, and glorying in his cross below, 
that he may not be ashamed of us before assembled worlds. 
Not to join the Church, is to stand back from positive duty — to 
shrink from true devotion — to be ashamed of Jesus — to throw 
sleighting coldness upon the wise provisions of our heavenly 
Father's mercy, and by thus keeping ourselves aliens from the 
commonwealth of Israel, provoke God to leave us without him, 
and without hope in the world. There are too many promises 
which are only applicable to those who unite themselves to the 
Church. It is as much the duty of the sinner to join himself to 
the Church, as to believe in Christ. The one is necessarily con- 
sequent upon the other. He must repent and believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and then in remembrance of him, is he 
bound to take upon himself the badge of discipleship, and ob- 
serve all the ordinances of the Lord blameless. The feelings 
of every believing mind should be those of David, when he said, 

the: design and duty of a church. 39 

"What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards 
me? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name 
of the Lord. I will pay my vow unto the Lord now, in the 
presence of all his people." 

It is therefore wise to set apart such seasons as the present, 
that you may be put in remembrance of these things — of what 
as a Church, you are, what you ought to be, and what you ought 
to do. 

Most sincerely, respected members of this Church, do I sym- 
pathize with you in your present circumstances, while I address 
you within these walls, which, though they no longer hear the 
living voice of "the departed spirits of the mighty dead," are 
yet even in silence, eloquent in their praise. Great God, how 
mysterious are thy ways ! How wonderful are thy dealings 
towards the children of men ! How hast thou in thy provi- 
dences towards this Church, abased the pride of man's wisdom, 
crushed his most fondly cherished hopes, blasted every scheme 
of anticipated prosperity, and levelled every lofty tower of ex- 
pected security, and confidence, and joy ! Oh, what a lesson of 
humility has been here given to man ! With what sad demon- 
stration, has the dependence of the creature upon the Creator 
been established ! How have the mighty fallen ! How have 
those pillars, upon which, as upon a firm security, the peace and 
comfort of this Church were rested, been violently and for ever, 
torn away. How have those gifted men, in whom its hopes 
were all garnered, and its treasured visions centred, been taken 
from it, as by a whirlwind in the night ! In the short space of 
21 years, during which time this Church has had existence, 
three men of wisdom, eminence, and talent, embosomed in the 
esteem, the admiration, and the affections of a reciprocally be- 
loved people, have been committed to the tomb, and now only 
survive embalmed in the grateful recollections of a bereaved 
and mourning flock. Scarcely had the opened grave received 
into its sacred trust the relics of Him, who here woke the first 
sound of the Gospel trumpet with his ozvn power of heart-stir- 
ring appeal ; and the tears of regret, fallen, as the dew of sor- 
row, in this night of grief ; and the light of hope again smiled 
upon your countenances, as you gazed with filial complacency 
on Him who, as a father, went in and out among you, feeding 
you as children, with the bread of life — than the voice of lamen- 
tation, and weeping, and great mourning, was again heard, and 
the clouds of sorrow again gathered round you, and your hearts 
refused to be comforted, because Henry was no more. Nor, 
had this wailing sound yet died away — nor had the gushing 
fountains of opened grief ceased to flow, when another messen- 
ger arrived, and tidings came, that Ashmead — so young, so 
interesting, so appealingly eloquent, had followed in the steps of 


those, who had gone before him, and passed from earth to 

Your's, dear flock, has been indeed, a time of trial. Of three 
gems of "purest ray serene," have you been despoiled by Him, 
who mocks at beauty, and to whom genius and talent, are but a 
nobler triumph. They are gone, but no longer deplore them.* 
Over the dark night of your affliction, they have formed a can- 
opy, and shine forth as three stars of illustrious and constellated 
splendour. They are not dead, they could not die.f They are 
still beaming down upon you with eyes of purity and benignity. 
They are throned on the heart afifections of your souls. They 
outlive their bodies in those deep memories, which the exhaust- 
ing influence of time cannot erase. They have built themselves 
a monument, which, while it speaks their fame, secures your 
glory. They give the sacredness of reverence, and the dignity 
of immortality to this Church, which, with solemn grandeur, 
capacious as their souls, enshrines their relics, which sleep 
peacefully below. 

From those graves, though dead, they yet speak. And in the 
voice of consolation, they address you, saying, "Fear not little 
flock. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be 
afraid. Trust in God, and you shall yet praise him. He will 
not leave you comfortless. He will come again to you. He 
will build again the wells of your Zion. He will yet visit your 
vineyard, and water it with the refreshing and healthful spirit 
of his grace. The night is far spent — the day of your gladness 
is coming." 

Yes, dear friends, give to God this morning thanks, and take 
courage. Though you are faint, be pursuing. Though trou- 
bled on every side, be not distressed ; though perplexed, be not 
in despair; though cast down, you are not destroyed, you are 
not forsaken. Oh, let nothing separate you from the love of 
Christ. Bury this morning — in the grateful and adoring 
thankfulness of your heart, that you are permitted to see it — 
bury every thing, but love and hope. Let brotherly love con- 
tinue, as it has done amongst you ; and while memory gilds 
with peaceful tranquility, the recollections of the past, let hope 
brighten the days that are to come. 

Let an altar of gratitude and praise, be raised to that Al- 
mighty friend, who "in the storm and danger's thrall," amidst 
the loneliness of your trying hour, when in your unbefriended 
and shepherdless condition, there was no eye that could effi- 
ciently pity, and no hand that could efficiently save — has stood 
by you, guided and guarded you, and who is still waiting to be 

*Thou art gone to the grave ; but we will not deplose thee. — HfiBgR. 
tThou art not dead, thou coulds't not die. — Montgomery. 


Have hope then, towards God. Remember, that He, to 
whom we direct you, is not slow to hear, nor impotent to save. 
With him there is infinite wisdom to guide, with him there is 
Omnipotence to help. Adore therefore, his goodness, even in 
the midst of trials. Praise him for his mercies past — and hum- 
bly hope for more. You need not as Christians, be reminded 

God moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to perform ; 

Ye fearful Saints fresh courage take, 

The clouds ye so much dread, 

Are big with mercy, and shall break 

In blessings upon your head. 

Be therefore of one heart, one mind, and let your wrestling 
petition ascend to Him, who heareth prayer, and answereth 
requests, and who, if you agree as touching any thing, will give 
it unto you. 

Before I conclude, let me call your most solemn attention, as 
to the voice of one risen from the grave, to the closing appeal of 
Him, whose body is in that aisle, mingling in the dust, but who 
is now gone to his account, and appeared before God, and with 
whom as your Pastor, you shall all stand before the judgment 
seat of Christ, and against whom, if applicable, these words 
will bring a wofully accusing condemnation. 

"We must review the past," said he, "with mingled sensations 
of pleasure and pain. Not merely the pain which bereavements 
inflict, when the occasion reminds you of the departed : nor yet 
the recollection of past anxiety, doubts, and fears. Could angels 
mingle in this engagement with us, they would point to a cause 
of sorrow, which abides in the midst of us still. It is in those 
on whom our hopes have fully rested — who have stood by this 
Sanctuary in its external concerns, even when others shrunk 
from responsibility and danger. It is in those, who, in activity 
and benevolence, plainly discovered of what worth they might 
be to the cause of God, with a heart devoted to his Son — who, 
from an early date, have looked on to behold others pressing 
into the kingdom of Heaven — and yet, who in every refreshing 
from on high, have remained, like the fleece of Gideon, un- 
moistened by the dews that fell. Oh, sufifer me, by the consid- 
eration of the changes I have named, and by the solemn argu- 
ment they draw from the uncertainty of life — suflfer me to 
gather a plea from the very occasion, to urge you, once more, to 
accept the tenders of the Gospel! Fathers, and brethren, I 
would not see you stand aloof from the covenant of grace, in 
the very temple which has been the object of your care, and in 
which the cup of salvation has been so repeatedly offered. 
Realize, we pray you, realize our hopes, by ensuring a place, to 


which we have so often invited you, and where we long to see 
you — a place in the spiritual ranks of Messiah."* 

Let me ask, is there one individual present, who listened to 
these words, uttered by the living preacher, who then perhaps 
formed resolutions of obedience and holiness, and who has 
never, even until this hour, consecrated himself to the service 
of Him, who died to save him. Oh, let us entreat, beseech, and 
implore such an one by the mercies of God, by his own immor- 
tal and never ending interests, to pause, ere it is too late — to 
think, ere thought is gone — to work, ere the day is closed, and 
the night is upon him. Oh, let such an one be wise to-day, and 
be assured, that it is madness to defer. Amen, and Amen. 

*See "The Song of Ascent," — a Sermon by T. Charlton Henry, D. D. — 
p. 33. 









April 3D, 1837 



"Was it worth while to rear this massive edifice, to he a desert 
in the heart of the town, and populous only for a few hours of 
each seventh day? Oh! hut the Church is a symhol of religion. 
May its site be kept holy for ever, a spot of solitude and peace 
amid the trouhle and vanity of our week-day world. There is 
a moral and a religion, too, even in its silent walls. And may 
the steeple still point heavenward, and be decked with the hal- 
lowed sunshine of the Sabbath morn. 

For in the sacred Church the heart grows stronger 
With prayers that raise their earnest eyes above; 

And in the presence of our God — no longer 
Feels like an outcast from all hope and love." 





Haggai^ II. 3. 

Who is left among you that saw this house in her first glory? 
and how do ye see it now? 

The power of retrospection, is one of man's peculiar distinc- 
tions. Our wisdom lies treasured up in the past, as much as 
in the future ; and memory, as an instructor, is as valuable as 
hope. The perusal of our individual history is, to every man, 
an exercise not only of deep interest, but of great profit ; and 
the grateful recollection of past favours is not less beneficial 
than it is obligatory. To this principle God frequently ad- 
dresses himself, when, by the memory of his great goodness he 
would draw unto him the reluctant hearts of men. lo this 
also, he has adapted many of the institutions and ordinances 
of religion, now and in former times. No duty is more fre- 
quently inculcated in the inspired volume, than the thankful 
remembrance of former providential deliverances. "It is a good 
thing to give thanks unto the Lord," and constantly "to shew 
forth his loving kindness." "I will mention the loving kindness 
of the Lord," says the Church in the language of prophecy, 
"and the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord hath 
bestowed on us, and the great goodness toward the house of 
Israel which he hath bestowed on them according to his mer- 
cies, and according to the multitude of his loving kindness." 
Thus were the Jews required to instruct their children, that they 
might convey, throughout all generations, the history of those 
divine interpositions and mercies with which they had been 
favoured. And is it not, in like manner, the duty of every 
church, and of the whole Church now, to leave on record, for 
the perusal and advantage of those who may come after them, 
the history of their struggles, their victories, and their mercies ? 

The time in which this can be done with certainty and cor- 
rectness, for this church, is now fast passing away ; for a little 
while, and the places of those remaining few, who saw the rise, 


and have witnessed the progress of this church, will know them 
no more for ever. With their assistance, therefore, and a care- 
ful and laborious examination of all the records of the church, 
and of other documents, I have prepared a history of this 
church which I thought would be both profitable and agreeable 
to its present and future members. Those who are personally- 
acquainted with the facts, will be pleased to retrace their his- 
tory, and revive the pleasant and happy associations of former 
days ; while they to whom they are new, will be gratified by the 
knowledge of the past history of that church where it is their 
choice to worship the God of their fathers. 

Before, however, entering upon the history of this individual 
church, let me make some introductory observations upon the 
history of Presbyterianism within this State. 

Presbyterians were among the first settlers in South Carolina. 
They have been proportionably numerous in all periods of its 
history, and during the latter part of the 18th century, the great 
majority of emigrants were Presbyterians. In the year 1704, 
when there was but one Episcopal congregation in the whole 
province, then numbering towards six thousand white inhab- 
itants, the dissenters had three churches in Charleston, and one 
of the first regular churches formed in the colony was Inde- 
pendent. As early however, as the year 1690, the Presbyterians, 
in conjunction with the Independents, formed a church in 
Charleston, which continued in this united form for forty years. 
During this period, two of their ministers, the Rev. Messrs. 
Stobo and Livingston, were Presbyterians, and connected with 
the Charleston Presbytery. After the death of the latter, 
twelve families seceded, and formed a Presbyterian Church, 
on the model of the Church of Scotland. Their building was 
erected in 1731, on the site of the present, which was completed 
in 1814. Previous to 1790, the Presbytery was not incoi-porate, 
from reasons to be presently mentioned. To it belonged the 
churches of Wiltown, Pon Pon, St. Thomas', Stoney-Creek, 
Salt Catchers, Black Mingo, the original and first incorporated 
church of Williamsburgh, Charleston, Edisto, and the church 
of John and Wadmalaw Islands. In 1790, four of these, by 
a petition to the Legislature, were constituted a body corporate, 
principally with a view of raising a fund for the relief of 
widows and orphans of deceased clergymen. In 1799, the Pres- 
bytery of Charleston, as it then existed in an altered and dimin- 
ished form, made application to be received as a constituent 
part of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, in 
the United States,* but this union was never formed. The min- 

*This petition came up in the assembly, which met in Philadelphia, in 
May 1800. Dr. Ramsay, upon what authority I know not, but concluding I 
suppose, that the application would be of course favourably received, says 
in his history, that the Presbytery was received into the assembly. It is 


istry constituting this Presbytery, were mostly from Scotland 
and Ireland, "men," says Ramsay, "of good education, orderly 
in their conduct, and devoted to the systems of doctrine and 
government established in Scotland." 

It may well be inquired, why, with such an early and con- 
tinued prominence in the colony, Presbyterians did not multiply 
to a correspondent extent ; recommended as they have ever 
been by an enlightened, educated and laborious ministry? To 
this, plain answer can be given by the statement of a few facts. 
In the year 1698, an act was passed by the government, "to 
settle a maintenance on a minister of the Church of England 
in Charleston." The precedent, thus set by the Legislature, and 
without any suspicion acquiesced in by the people, was the germ 
of a future ecclesiastical establishment. Most of the proprie- 
tors and public officers of the province being attached to the 
Church of England, determined if possible, to secure for it 

however, our opinion that the old Presbytery of Charleston, never was con- 
nected with the General Assembly. The following is the minute of the 
Assembly on the petition of the Presbytery : 

"The Revd. Doctor Green, laid before the Assembly, a petition from a 
body stiling themselves the Presbytery of Charleston, South Carolina, 
requesting to be received into connexion with this body, accompanied with 
other papers, which being read, On motion, resolved, that Doctors Rodgers, 
M'Whorter and Green, and the Revd. Messrs. Cathcart, Wilson and Ander- 
son, be a committee to take the same into consideration, and report to the 
Assembly as soon as may be convenient. The committee to whom was 
referred by the General Assembly, the consideration of an application from 
Charleston Presbytery in South Carolina, to be taken into connexion with 
the Assembly, made their report which being corrected was adopted and is 
as follows : "After examining the papers and propositions brought forward 
by the Charleston Presbytery, the committee think it expedient that the 
General Assembly, refer the business to the consideration of the Synod of 
the Carolinas, with whom this Presbytery must be connected if they become 
a constituent part of our body. That the said Synod be informed, that the 
Presbytery aught in the event of a connexion with us, to be allowed to enjoy 
and manage without hindrance or control, all funds and monies that are now 
in their possession, and that the congregations under the care of the Pres- 
bytery, be permitted freely to use the system of psalmody which they have 
adopted. That on the other hand, the Synod must be careful to ascertain, 
that all the ministers and congregations belonging to the Presbytery, do fully 
adopt not only the doctrines but the form of government and discipline of 
our church. That the Synod under the guidance of these general principles 
should be directed, if agreeable to them and to the Presbytery, to receive 
said Presbytery as a part of that Synod. But if the Synod or the Presby- 
tery find difficulties in finally deciding on this subject, that they may refer 
such difficulties, and transmit all the information they may collect, relative 
to this business, to the next General Assembly." 

It appears from this that several difficulties were in the way of such a 
connexion. The Presbytery was not united with the Synod of the Caro- 
linas, partly it would seem through fear of alienating certain funds in its 
possession, or of interference with some internal regulations. And besides 
this, the Assembly appears to have had such a limited knowledge of the 
members of the Presbytery, as not to be assured of their sincere adoption 
"not only of the doctrines but the form of government and discipline of the 
church." Difficulties were evidently anticipated, in the arrangement with 
the Synod. And this arrangement we believe never was effected but rather 
resisted by the Presbytery. Nothing is said about the matter in the minutes 
of Assembly for 1801 and 1802, nor in the Assembly's digest. And it is no 
small confirmation of this opinion that it is in accordance with the recol- 
lections of Dr. Green, who was one of the committee on this occasion. 


legal pre-eminence and connection with the State. The elec- 
tion of members of this church to the Legislature was covertly 
promoted, and a majority obtained. "The recently elected 
members," says Ramsay, "soon after they entered upon their 
legislative functions, took measures for perpetuating the power 
they had thus obtained, for they enacted a law 'which made it 
necessary for all persons thereafter chosen members of the 
Commons, House of Assembly, to conform to the religious wor- 
ship of the Church of England, and to receive the sacrament of 
the Lord's Supper according to the rites and usages of that 
church.' This act passed the lower house by a majority cf only 
one vote. It virtually excluded from a seat in the Legislature 
all who were dissenters, erected an aristocracy, and gave a 
monopoly of power to one sect, though far from being a major- 
ity of the inhabitants. Though the infant establishment of the 
Church of England, thus instituted, was frowned upon by the 
ruling powers in England, and was disagreeable to a majority 
of the inhabitants of Carolina, yet no further steps weie then 
taken for restoring to dissenters their equal rights. The Epis- 
copal party continued to maintain their ascendency in the 
assembly, and made legislative provision for extending and 
maintaining their mode of worship. In two years, the colony 
was divided into ten parishes : St. Philip's, Charlestown, 
Christ Church, St. Thomas', St. John, St. James', St. AnJrew's, 
St. Dennis', St. Paul's, St. Bartholomews, St. James Santee, 
and each parish was made a corporation. Some of these were 
afterwards subdivided, and others occasionally formed as the 
population extended. Money was provided by law for building 
and repairing churches ; lands were secured by donation, pur- 
chase or grants, from the proprietors, at the public expense, for 
glebes and church-yards ; and salaries for the different rectors, 
clerks and sextons, of the established parishes were fixed and 
made payable out of the provincial treasury. Legislative acts 
were passed for the encouragement of Episcopal clergymen to 
settle in the province, and exercise their clerical functions, in 
the several parishes designated by law. To such, £25 was paid 
out of the public treasury immediately on their arrival in Caro- 
lina, and their annual legal salary commenced from the same 
period in case they were afterwards elected rectors of any of 
the established parishes by the resident inhabitants who were 
members of the Church of England.* 

This state of things, with but little variation, continued for 
seventy years, and as long as the province remained subject to 
Great Britain. In the course of that period twenty-four par- 
ishes were laid oflf, most of which were in the maritime districts, 
and none more than ninety miles from the sea-coast. 



It was not until the period of the Revohition, that this mo- 
nopoly of religious privilege was broken up and Presbyterians 
and other denominations of Christians, were restored to equality 
of rights, and freed from a taxation which required them to 
support an established faith, with which in many things they 
could not agree. Nor was this deliverance even then granted 
them but from necessity. For they had now an unquestionable 
majority in the colony, and the physical force necessary for war 
and defence, was theirs. Without union among all parties, 
there was no prospect of success, and therefore after seventy 
years of exclusive authority, the established church was under 
the necessity of yielding to a constitution which gave equal 
laws, equal rights, and full and free toleration to all sects and 
parties.* The unfettered progress of Presbyterians, must be 
dated therefore, from the period of repose after the storm of 
the Revolution, when they found their funds unguarded by 
every previous legal security, almost entirely gone, and their 
prospects dark and forbidding. In 1808, the Presbytery of 
Charleston consisted of five ministers and seven congregations. 
It now numbers twenty-eight ministers, three licentiates and 
seven churches in regular communion with it. And in 1835, 
there were in South-Carolina alone, ninety-one churches, thirty- 
nine ministers, twelve licentiates, four presbyteries, and eight 
thousand three hundred and twenty-six members in full com- 
munion with that church, on whom, as Ramsay expresses it, 
"the established church, had been too apt to look down with 
contempt as on an inferior grade of beings." 

Thus freed from constraint, the number of Presbyterians 
multiplied in the city and throughout the state. The church in 
Charleston was found insufficient to accommodate those who 
wished to worship with Presbyterians. The house was always 
crowded, seats could not be procured, except by long delay, and 
the necessity of another Presbyterian Church became apparent. 

Previous to 1811, the First Presbyterian Church was the only 
accommodation for Presbyterians in Charleston. It had been 
for many years, however, found altogether insufficient tor this 
purpose. As early as the year 1804, the necessity of a new 
erection was felt and the design encouraged by Dr. Buist> then 
Pastor of the church. The Rev. Mr. Malcomson, who arrived 
from Ireland, in 1794, and had been settled as pastor for many 
years in Williamsburgh, in this State, was engaged to preach 
for those who wished to form another congregation, and the 
temporary use of the French Church was procured. His death, 
which occured in September of the same year, blighted the 
sanguine hopes which were entertained, that ere long, another 
Presbyterian Church and congregation would be formed in 

*See Ramsay. 

-Vol. V 


Charleston. It was not until the year 1809, when the inability 
to find accommodation in the existing church, made the matter 
urgent, that the determination was finally and effectually made, 
to enter upon the formation of the present Second Presbyterian 

In presenting a short sketch of the past history of this church, 
I will pursue the following order, taking up the history of the 
Church itself, of the Lecture Room, its ministers, its elders, its 
officers, its doctrines, and its harmonious co-operation with 
other churches. 

It was on Wednesday evening, February 8th, 1809, that the 
following gentlemen being assembled at the house of Mr. Flem- 
ming, entered into an agreement, to unite their efforts to secure 
a suitable building for a Presbyterian Church, viz., Benjamin 
Boyd, William Pressly, John Ellison, Archibald Pagan, George 
Robertson, Samuel Robertson, William Walton, James Adger, 
Caleb Gray, John Robinson, Alexander Henry, Samuel Pressly, 
William Aiken, John Porter. 

At a subsequent meeting on March 6th, a subscription paper 
for the support of a minister was presented, when by the sub- 
scription of a number present, of one hundred dollars each, for 
two years, more than a sufficient salary being subscribed, a com- 
mittee was appointed to request the Rev. Andrew Flinn, then 
connected with the united congregation of Williamsburg, and 
Indian-Town, to organize and take charge of this congregation, 
with a salary of two thousand dollars. That committee con- 
sisted of Benjamin Boyd, John Cunningham, Joseph Milligan, 
Samuel Robertson, and John Robinson, who is the only present 
surviving member. This invitation, the claims of his charge 
having been voluntarily surrendered, Mr. Flinn accepted ; when 
a meeting for the formation of a Second Presbyterian Church, 
was held at Trinity Church, on Monday evening, April 24th, 
1809. Committees were appointed to attend to the secular busi- 
ness, to purchase a site for the erection of a church, and to 
obtain subscriptions. The first standing committee to attend 
to all the secular affairs of the church and to purchase a site for 
the church, were Benjamin Boyd, John Cunningham, Joseph 
Milhgan, John Robinson, and Samuel Robertson. 

The committee to procure subscriptions, consisted of Benja- 
min Boyd, John Cunningham, Joseph Milligan, Alexander 
Henry, John Stoney, John Ellison, William Porter, George 
Robertson, James Gordon, William Aiken, William Walton, 
William Pressly, John Robinson. 

As a record of the munificence of the donors, who were not 
confined to Presbyterians, it was resolved, that the names of the 
subscribers should be preserved in pachment and deposited in 
the archives of the church. This parchment though somewhat 


defaced in one part, is still preserved. By May 16th, the plan 
of the church was presented by John Gordon, who was ap- 
pointed to build it, and who immediately entered upon the work. 
In 1809, an act of incorporation was obtained. At a meeting 
in January 25, 1810, a subscription paper was presented for the 
signatures of those who wished to become members of the Sec- 
ond Presbyterian Church, to be governed by prescribed rules 
and bye-laws, when the following persons signed their names, 
viz., Benjamin Boyd, , Stephen Thomas, Robert Flemming, 
Richard M. McMillan, Caleb Gray, Richard Cunningham, James 
Adger, John Porter, William H. Gilliland, Alexander Gray, 
John Blackwood, John Cunningham, Alexander Henry, John 
M'Dowell, William Walton, Samuel Robertson, John Walton, 
Thomas Fleming, John Robinson, James Beggs, George Rob- 
ertton, J. C. Martindale, John Brownlee, William Scott, John 
Johnson, Charles Robiou, William Aiken, George Keenan, 
Archibald Grahame, James Carr, Lewis A. Pitray, James Le- 
man, John Noble, David Bell, James Evans, John Ellison, B. 
Casey, William M'Elmoyle, John Davis, William Pressly, 
Thomas Johnson, George Miller, James Blocker, Robert Bel- 
shaw, Samuel Corrie, Samuel H. Pratt, James Pennal, Thomas 
A. Vardell, John Steele, Nathaniel Slawson, John C. Beile, 
William Porter, Samuel Patterson, Samuel Browne, John M. 
Fraser, Thomas Milliken, John Smyth, John Mushet, John 
Crow, John Geddes, Peter Kennedy, James Wall, Charles Mar- 
tin, Alexander Howard, William Thompson, John Dunn, Wil- 
liam Smith, sen., William L. Shaw, Edward Carew, C. B. 
Duhadway, Samuel Pilsbury, William Scott, R. Galbraith, 
Richard Fair, Edward M'Grath, James Cooper, William Simms. 

In order that the church might be opened for the reception 
of the Harmony Presbytery, at its first session, it was dedicated 
to the worship of Almighty God, by a sermon from the Rev. 
Dr. Flinn, on Wednesday, April 3d, 1811 ; and connected with 
the Ecclesiastical Judicatories of the Presbyterian Church. 
This was the first session ever held in Charleston, by a Presby- 
tery, connected with the General Assembly of the Presbyterian 
Church, in these United States. The Charleston Union Pres- 
bytery, also held its first session in this church, April 10th, 1823, 
Thus was consecrated to the service of religion, that edifice in 
which we and our fathers have so delightfully and profitably 
waited upon the ordinances of the sanctuary. The sermon 
preached on that occasion is still extant, though rarely to be 
met with ; but few who were present on the interesting occasion 
survive to tell its tale. 

Although great munificence was exercised by the founders 
of this church, its cost far exceeded both their expectations and 
their means. By the account of the Treasurer presented up to 


April, 1812, it appears that the sum of fifty-five thousand five 
hundred and forty-eig-ht dollars had been expended, and that a 
large amount would be still necessary, to carry out the plans, 
and pay the incurred debt. To meet this, a heavy assessment 
was laid upon the pews of the church, in March, 1811 ; and 
another, to three times its amount, in December, 1815. Not- 
withstanding these efforts, in June, 1816, it appeared that the 
sum of thirty-one thousand one hundred and fifty-six dollars, 
twenty-five cents, was still due, when it was resolved to sell all 
the pews on which the assessment had not been paid. There 
still, however, remained in May, 1822, a debt of twenty-two 
thousand dollars hanging upon the Church, which, in April, 
1823, had increased to twenty-three thousand four hundred and 
eighty-five dollars. The standing committee feeling the great 
importance of removing in some way this oppressive burden, 
reported in 1823, a plan of relieving the church of this debt, by 
transferring the whole property and temporal jurisdiction of 
the church to an association, who should assume the debt as 
their own, engaging however, that the Confession of F.iith as 
moulded by the General Assembly, should ever be the rule of 
government to the church, as well in doctrine as discipline. 
This report was adopted at a meeting in August, 1823, and in 
the same month, the committee reported that they had obtained 
subscriptions for the extinction of the debt, amounting to six- 
teen thousand and twenty-five dollars, and in April, 1824, the 
same committee stated that all the debts of the church had been 
settled. Thus after a night of thick and clouded darkness, the 
sun of prosperity again arose upon the church, and hope glad- 
dened every heart. 

In August, 1827, accordant to the plan, and on the terms 
already mentioned, the compromise — being sixty per cent, on 
all the debts due — having been cheerfully received by all the 
creditors, most of whom were members of the church, the trans- 
fer was made from the corporation to the association. This 
body was composed of members of the same corporation, who 
had with so great liberality relieved it of all debt. Messrs. 
William Smith, John Robinson, Richard Cunningham, William 
Aiken, and James Adger, were elected Trustees, in whose 
names the titles of the Association should be made out. A com- 
mittee was at this time also appointed to revise the old rules, 
and prepare a system of bye-laws, for the association. 

Thus was this beautiful temple, at the cost of m.ore than one 
hundred thousand dollars, finally erected, and delivered from all 
incumbrance, by the energy, union, and concerted liberality of 
its founders. The spire alone remained unfinished, but will we 
hope in due time, arise to its destined summit, with its "silent 
finger pointing to the skies," and thus like a pyramid of fire. 


"burning heavenward," giving increased beauty to the building, 
and another ornament to the country ; and, we are happy to say, 
that to such a consummation so sincerely to be desired, the 
energy of the church, as if refreshed by its unwearied labours, 
is still willing to aspire. To such efforts, nothing is unattain- 
able — nil desperandum, — nothing to be despaired of.* 

No other fault could be found to a church so grand in its 
simplicity, its perfect proportions, and its whole arrangements, 
but its immense size. Until very recently, no other considera- 
tion seems to have entered into the views of the founders of 
churches, than such as related to the beauty of the architecture. 
The relation of the church to the capacity of the voice, and the 
physical energies of man ; the connexion between great distinct- 
ness of sound and consequent impressiveness ; the dependence 
of both upon a limited extent of space ; the natural and incalcu- 
lable power of sympathy, which is diffused through an audience 
in proportion to its density, its proximity to a speaker, and its 
clear view of the working of his spirit as it gives colouring to 
his countenance ; and the necessarily limited power of ministe- 
rial visitation and pastoral labour; these things, now fell to be 
so all-important, have been hitherto strangely overlooked. The 
immensity of this church ; that vacuum, as it were, in which the 
speaker felt himself uttering ; and the unnatural eft'ort neces- 
sary to fill it with his voice ; have been felt by all its ministers, 
and in a corresponding degree, by all their hearers. Ttie bur- 
den of its debt having been removed from the congregation, it 
was now prepared to take into consideration the possibility of 
lessening these evils. And it is with much pleasure and grati- 
fication I testify to the readiness, and the needful liberality with 
which it entered in 1833, upon that series of alterations, which 
has terminated so beneficially in the present greatly improved 
condition and aspect of the church. By these alterations, while 
no injury is done to the appearance of the church, we are put 
in possession of a very suitable room for its Sabbath School, 
and will, when the arrangement is completed, have a Session 
Room, and a ministerial apartment, where can be accommo- 
dated a Church Library, and which may be for the study of 
its pastor. 

Previous to the time of Dr. Henry, the weekly lectures of 
the church were delivered at the private houses of its members. 

*But the steeple stands foremost in our thoughts. It impresses us as a 
giant, with a mind comprehensive and discriminative enough to care for the 
great and small concerns of all the town. Hourly while it speaks a moral 
to the few that think, it reminds thousands of busy individuals of their sepa- 
rate and most secret affairs. It is the steeple too, that flings abroad the 
hurried and irregular accents of alarm : neither have gladness and festivity 
found a better utterance than by its tongue : and when the dead are slowly 
passing to their home, the steeple has a melancholy voice to bid them wel- 
come. — Hawthorne. 

54 HISTORY OF the; second pre;sbyterian church. 

But in January, 1824, at the urgency of Dr. Henry, the Corpora- 
tion authorized the Session to procure a temporary building 
suitable for a Lecture Room. Such a building was obtained 
in St. Philip's street. A lot of land was, however, soon leased 
in Blackbird alley, at fifty dollars per annum, and a Lecture 
Room erected through the efforts of the ladies of the congrega- 
tion, at a cost of about seven hundred dollars. This room, with 
the services connected with it, have proved eminently instru- 
mental in furthering the interests of the congregation. In con- 
sequence of the surrounding lots having been filled up with 
buildings, the narrowness of the entrance, and the limited size 
and unfinished nature of the building, the attention of the con- 
gregation was gradually led to the necessity of a change. In 
1835, it was resolved that an attempt should be made to procure 
subscriptions, for the purchase of a suitable lot, and the erection 
of a neat building. These being very soon, and very generously 
procured, to an extent sufficient to authorize the commencement 
of the work, the present lot in Society street, was purchased, 
and the building commenced. This beautiful and most credit- 
able edifice was dedicated on Sabbath evening, March, 1837, in 
presence of a crowded and deeply interested assembly. 

Such is a brief outline of the external history of the church. 
A cursory notice will now be taken of what may be termed its 
clerical history. 

The first pastor of this church, was the Rev. Andrew Flinn, 
D. D. He was called in February, 1809 ; installed April 4th, 
1811 ; and died February 24th, 1820 ; having been eleven years 
connected with the church. Dr. Flinn was born in the State of 
Maryland, in the year 1773, of honest, pious, and respectable 
parentage. When he was about a year old, the family migrated 
to Mecklenburg County, North-Carolina, where his father died 
in 1785. For his early education, as well as moral training, he 
was indebted to a mother, characterized by sincere and ardent 
piety. Through the kind assistance of some friends, the bud- 
dings of his genius were encouraged by the fostering spirit of 
a liberal education. He entered the University of North 
Carolina, where he graduated with considerable distinction in 
the year 1799. He engaged in the study of Theology, under 
the care of the Presbytery of Orange, and was licensed to 
preach the Gospel in 1800. He soon gave proofs of that elo- 
quence, piety and success, with which he afterwards laboured 
in the ministry. His first pastoral connection was with the 
church in Fayetteville, North-Carolina, where he remained a 
few years ; afterwards he removed to Camden, and from thenc* 
to the united congregations of Bethel and Indiantown, in Wil- 
liamsburgh, South-Carolina. From this place he was called to 
Charleston in 1809, where he organized this church, dedicated 


this house of worship, and built up this congregation. In 1811, 
he was honored with the degree of D. D., by the University 
of North-Carolina. In 1812, he was a Delegate to the Gen- 
eral Assembly, preached the opening sermon, and was elected 
Moderator. In 1813, he again preached the sermon at the 
opening of the Assembly from the words, "Be thou faithful unto 
death, and I will give thee a crown of life." On February 24th, 
1820, in the forty-eighth year of his age, after a long and pain- 
ful illness. Dr. Flinn was removed from the scene of his earthly 
labours. During the whole of his sickness, he was emmently 
supported by those truths he had long, faithfully and ably 
preached to others. His last moments were employed in taking 
a solemn and affectionate farewell of his mourning family, and 
his surrounding friends, in which he exhibited that serenity of 
mind, and that deep impression of soul, which belong to those 
who die in the Lord. He then with great composure, raised up 
his hands and eyes to heaven, and said, "Jesus into thy hands I 
commend my spirit." Being characteristically an extemporane- 
ous speaker, using but partial notes, Dr. Flinn has left behmd 
him, no other publications than a few sermons, which were 
published during his life. 

After the death of Dr. Flinn, the church was supplied by 
such transient ministers, as could be obtained until April, 1820, 
when the Rev. Artemas Boies, Pastor of the church at Wil- 
mington, North Carolina, and who had been recommended by 
Dr. Flinn, was called to supply the church for one year, during 
the rebuilding of his church at Wilmington, which had been 
burnt. He was elected Pastor in April, 1821, and continued to 
labour until May, 1823, when he tendered his resignation to the 
corporation of the church. This being referred to Presbytery, 
his pastoral connexion which had continued for three years, was 
dissolved, and the church declared vacant. 

In November, 1823, it was unanimously resolved, to call the 
Rev. Thomas Charlton Henry to the pastoral charge for one 
year. This call was very soon made permanent when it was 
accepted, and Mr. Henry was installed by the Charleston Union 
Presbytery, January, 1824. He died October 5th, 1827, having 
been four years connected with the church. The Rev. T. C. 
Henry, was the son of Alexander Henry, Esqr., of Philadel- 
phia, the venerable and devoted President of the American 
Sunday School Union, and an elder in the Central Presbyterian 
Church. He was born September 22d, 1790. He went through 
an unusually extensive course of literature, and took his first 
degree with distinguished reputation, at Middlebury College, 
Vermont, in August, 1814. Immediately after his graduation, 
having experienced the saving efficacy of divine grace, he 
devoted himself to the sacred ministry. To fit himself for this 


work, he took a course of Theological study at Princeton 
Seminary, which he left in 1816. In this year, also, he was 
licensed to preach the Gospel. Having received and declined 
invitations to the pastoral care of several churches, he finally 
accepted a unanimous call from the Presbyterian Church of 
Columbia, South Carolina, where he was ordained and installed 
in 1818, by the Presbytery of Harmony. It was at the close of 
his fifth year of labour in Columbia, that Dr. Henry received 
the unanimous call of this church to become their pastor. Here 
in the stated services of the Pulpit, and the Lecture Room, in 
the Bible Class, and Sunday School, his soul was poured forth 
in earnest instruction and fervent supplication. In the first and 
second years of his ministry considerable additions were made 
to the church ; but in the third, a blessed effusion of the Holy 
Spirit was enjoyed. His inde'fatigable labours during this sea- 
son, rendered a period of relaxation indispensable, and he 
therefore embarked for Liverpool in April, 1826. During the 
four or five months of his stay in Europe, he traveled through 
the principal parts of Great Britain and Ireland, and visited the 
continent. Several months were spent both in Paris and Lon- 
don. This tour was attended by many very interesting circum- 
stances, and produced important results. In October, he took 
leave of his English friends, and after paying a short visit to 
his venerable father, and numerous relations in Philadelphia, j 

he returned early in December, to his congregation. With I 

redoubled vigour he entered upon his labours among his people, 
and upon the prosecution of his studies. The latter indeed had 
known no interruption. For in no part of his life probably, had 
the acquisition of knowledge been so rapid, or his intellectual 
exertion so unremitting and successful, as during this season of 

On the first of October, 1827, when in the enjoyment of per- 
fect health, he was suddenly seized with the Stranger's Fever, 
then prevalent in the city, which in four days terminated his 
valuable life, at the early age of thirty-seven, leaving a bereaved 
widow and three children to lament his loss. Amid the alarm 
and consternation, occasioned by his fatal illness, he alone was 
calm and unappalled. While around him stood his afflicted 
relatives and friends, his expiring voice was employed in rejoic- 
ing and praise. And while a "horror of great darkness" fell 
upon others, at his sudden and premature departure, he viewed 
it with rapture, as the bright and cloudless dawning of Immor- 
tal glory. 

Dr. Henry has left behind him, several published sermons; 
an "Inquiry into the consistency of popular amusements, with 
a profession of Christianity ;" his "Etchings ;" and his "Letters 
to an anxious inquirer." The two last, were posthumous 


works. His "Letters to an anxious inquirer," have been twice 
published in America, the second edition under the auspices, 
and with a recommendatory preface of the late Rev. Dr. Bedell ; 
and also in London, with an introduction by Dr. Pye Smith. 
The account of his death is also published in a volume of the 
London Tract Society, as an eminent exhibition of the triumphs 
of divine grace. 

After the melancholy death of Dr. Henry, the church 
remained two years without a pastor, though faithfully supplied 
by the Rev. Benjamin Gildersleeve and the Rev. Dr. Leland. 
Various and unsuccessful efforts were made to obtain the ser- 
vices of a suitable minister. In June, 1828, the Rev. Alonzo 
Church, o'f Georgia, received a call, which he declined. In 
September, the Rev. Mr. Kirk (now of Albany) was elected 
Pastor, but he also refused to come. In February 1829, the 
Rev. William Ashmead, being in Charleston, on account of his 
health, received a call. In March he accepted o^ his appoint- 
ment, and was in May, installed Pastor. On June 7th, he ob- 
tained leave of absence for the summer, with the intemion of 
bringing his family, but died on his return, in Philadelphia, 
December 2d, 1829, having been connected with this church but 
little more than six months, of which he was absent more than 

Mr. Ashmead was born in Philadelphia, in 1797. From his 
early youth, he was devoted to books and retirement, and was 
remarked by Dr. Rush as a youth of fine promise. He studied 
in the University of Pennsylvania, and was graduated in 1818. 
Having chosen as his future profession, the Gospel Ministry, 
he studied under the Rev. James P. Wilson, the friend of Dr. 
Flinn, who published his memoir, -and his funeral sermon, and 
who is yet remembered as a man of erudition and great talent. 
Mr. Ashmead was compelled to teach by day and study by 
night, and thus laid the foundation of his future infirmities. 
Having finished his course of study, he was licensed to preach 
in 1820. He ere long received a call from the Presbyterian 
Church in Lancaster, where he laboured for more than eight 
years previous to his call to this church. Mr. Ashmead has left 
behind him a few published sermons. Since his death, a vol- 
ume of his sermons, has been issued from the press, to which is 
prefixed an interesting memoir by the lamented Grimke, who 
was his warm friend, and held him in the highest estimation. 

After the death of Mr. Ashmead, the church sat in her wid- 
owhood for several years, receiving her food from occasional 
supplies, especially from her tried friend the Rev. Mr. Gilder- 
sleeve. In August 1830, the Rev. Alexander Aikman, received 
an unsuccessful call. In April 1831, a similar call was pre- 
sented to the Rev. J. B. Waterbury. 


It was in April, 1832, we were first acquainted as minister 
and people. Very wonderful were the leadings of providence, 
by which I was brought to this country and to this part of it, 
and by which you were led to extend to me an invitation to sup- 
ply this pulpit for a year. In August, 1833, you presented to 
me a permanent call to the pastoral charge of this church. This, 
in pursuance of a long established conviction, that to the hap- 
piness of such a connexion intimate acquaintance with each 
other is required, I long retained, and left open to any change 
in your views. Having rendered this building every thing I 
could desire, and proportioned it to my feebleness of body, I 
cordially accepted your unamious call, and was installed by the 
Charleston Union Presbytery, on Sabbath evening, December 
29th, 1834. I have thus been connected with you five years, a 
period longer than any other pastor has been, except Dr. Flinn. 

There have been thirteen Elders connected with this church ; 
six ordained by Dr. Flinn ; three by Mr. Boies ; three by Dr. 
Henry, and one by myself.* 

The first elders were Benjamin Boyd, Stephen Thomas, and 
John Cunningham, ordained March 4th, 1810, of whom one 
venerable for his age still survives. In February, 1812, David 
Bell, William Pressly, and Henry Bennett were ordained, of 
whom one likewise survives. In January, 1821, John Todd, 
Thomas Fleming, and James Black were ordained ; one of 
whom is dead, one has resigned, and one is coimected as an ac- 
tive and devoted elder with a church in Philadelphia. In Jan- 
uary, 1825, Israel Anthony, Robert Wright, and Charles 
O'Neale, were set apart to this office by Dr. Henry, two of 
whom I have committed to the tomb. Thomas R. Vardell was 
ordained elder December 2d, 1824. f May God inspire the hearts 
of some of you to fill the vacant places of the departed, and thus 
recruit the waning strength of your spiritual officers. 

The officers of the congregation consist of a President of the 
Association, a Treasurer and Secretary. The following gen- 
tlemen have been successively elected to the office of President : 
Benjamin Boyd, Samuel Robertson, William Smith, jun., 
Samuel Patterson, Thomas Fleming, John Robinson, James 
Black, James Adger, Alexander Black, William Smith. The 
following have been Treasurers, viz. : Stephen Thomas, George 
Robertson, James Adger, David Bell, Robert Eager, William 
C. Dukes, Alexander Brown, Richard Jones, John S. Bird. The 
Secretaries have been, John Robinson, Thomas Fleming, Alex- 
ander Black, Benjamin Hammet, William C. Dukes, and Fleet- 
wood Lanneau. 

*Two have since been ordained in Sept. 1837, viz : — Charles S. Simonton, 
and John Dewees. 

tNot at present an acting Elder. 


The doctrines of this church have ever been those of the Pres- 
byterian Church, as exhibited in the Westminster Confession 
of Faith. When the transfer of the church to the present 
Association was made, we have found that it was guaranteed 
to the church that the Confession of Faith, and Book of Dis- 
cipHne as moulded by the General Assembly, should ever be 
the rule of doctrine and government of the church. Dr. Flinn 
considered it his happiness, to have dedicated this church, "to 
the service and glory of the adorable and incomprehensible 
Trinity," and to proclaim here those doctrines of grace which 
issue from that blessed fountain. Of Dr. Henry, you, who 
have listened to his pungent exhibitions of the humbling truths 
of the divine oracles, and of the unsearchable riches and sover- 
eignty of God's love, require not that I should speak. "The 
religious tenets of the Rev. Mr. Ashmead," it is said, in his 
memoir, "were according to the strictest form of orthodoxy; 
and no one could have dwelt with more stress upon the peculiar 
doctrines of the Gospel of Christ." May such ever be the char- 
acter of this church, and of its future ministers; that it may 
prove a fountain of salvation to generations yet unborn, and 
that thousands, as they here listen to that truth which is accord- 
ing to salvation, may rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 

As this church was founded in a spirit of kindness, so has it 
ever lived in harmony with other churches. Its formation was 
encouraged by that church from which it sprung. It was re- 
garded as a friend, and coadjutor, and not as a rival. Between 
the First and Second Presbyterian Churches, the greatest cor- 
diality of feeling existed. In their early history, their elders 
and pastors assisted at the communion in both churches ; and to 
render this convenient, the administration of it was appointed 
on different sabbaths. During Dr. Flinn's sickness, the min- 
ister of that church officiated at this ordinance in this church. 
And after the death of Dr. Flinn the following communication 
was received from John Wilson, Esq., President of the First 
Presbyterian Church, and the Rev. George Reid their pastor. 

"Charleston, March §th, 1820. 

At an extra meeting of the Presbyterian Church held this 
day the following Resolutions were unanimously adopted: 

Resolved, That participating sincerely and affectionately with 
our brethren of the Second Presbyterian Church, in the severe 
bereavement which they have sustained, in the death of their 
faithful and pious Pastor, the Rev. Dr. Andrew Funn, the 
minister of this church be respectfully requested to tender his 
services to them, to preach for them alternately with ourselves, 
in the forenoon and afternoon of every Sunday, until they can 
make a more permanent arrangement to supply in some mea- 
sure their much lamented loss." Also, 


Resolved, That the President of the Corporation and the 
minister of the church, be requested to communicate the above 
resohition, as soon as possible, to the corporation of the Second 
Presbyterian Church, and to say, that, during the vacancy of 
their Pulpit it will be gratifying to us, to afford them every 
accommodation in our power. 

Extract from the minutes. 

(Signed) John Duefie, Secretary." 

A communication similar to the preceding was received from 
the session of the Third Presbyterian Church after the death of 
Dr. Henry. Such generous sympathy should never be forgot- 
ten. And such a spirit of christian courtesy and intercourse 
should never be interrupted, unless by a defection from the 
essential doctrines of the Bible. If it is good and pleasant for 
christian brethren to dwell together in unity; if private chris- 
tians are required to have fervent charity among themselves, as 
having amid all their differences, "one lord, one faith, and one 
baptism ;" how much more is this the duty of christian churches, 
and especially of churches of the same denomination, who are 
as cities set upon a hill, shedding abenign or malignant influence 
all around them. It is my design, and my desire, that this 
spirit of love to all who are of the houshold of faith, and to all 
in particular who worship according to the same forms with 
ourselves, shall never be wounded by me ; remembering as I do, 
that with whatever else the character may be adorned, wanting 
this, it is without its essential grace. And ye Brethren, put on 
charity as a garment; clothe yourselves in the lovely spirit of 
brotherly kindness ; be kindly affectionate to all ; love especially 
your brethren in the Lord ; and cultivate terms of the kindliest 
interchange with all the churches of Christ. For my own part, 
I earnestly long for the day, when the whole company of those 
who truly worship the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, shall be of 
one heart and one mind, and shall enjoy in common all things 
pertaining to godliness. 





The history of this church, which has been given in the pre- 
vious discourse, will teach some very valuable and important 
lessons to its present and future members. 

You have often, my brethren, listened to an exhibition of the 
incalculable power of union. It gives to many forces one direc- 
tion; and combines them under the power of one momentum. 
It imparts one mind, and spirit, and purpose, to the whole mul- 
titude of associated individuals. It divides equally the respon- 
sibility and the danger of an enterprize ; and thus, what no one 
would be willing to undertake singly, every one will meet with 
cheerfulness in such a copartnership. Union is in the moral 
world what steam is in the physical ; the expansion of intellect 
and the compression of intellectual force. As water in the con- 
dition of steam occupies one thousand six hundred and eighty- 
five times the bulk of the water from which it was formed, and 
may have its expansive force increased, so as even to shatter the 
globe in pieces ; so mind, in union, multiplies itself, diffuses its 
influence to an immeasurable extent, and may mould the senti- 
ments and habits of the whole world. Of the application of 
this principle, we have, in the present day, some sublime exam- 
ples. In the Temperance Union, in the Missionary Cause, and 
in Scientific Associations, we have seen a power, originated by 
the simple plan of union, before which ignorance, bigotry, and 
the most adamantine prejudices, have vanished. Of this power, 
my brethen, and of what may be accomplished by union, energy 
and perseverance, you have an eminent example in the present 
condition of this church, — beautiful for situation; elegant in 
her form ; respectable in all her appearance ; costly beyond ex- 
ample, and yet liberated and free from all her debts, owing no 
man any thing; and on a march of prosperity and usefulness, 
which will, we trust, never be impeded by any insuperable 
obstacle. Should such a season of darkness ever settle down 
upon her, and threaten her destruction, let her members look 
back to her origin and progress ; let them remember that by the 


power of union and energy among a few, she became, "from a 
little one," a large and respectable society ; and, in imitation of 
their wisdom, let them hold fast their faith and fellowship, 
knowing that "in due time they shall reap, if they faint not." 

Another lesson which this history teaches us, and which is 
all-important to the observance of the preceding, is the neces- 
sity of cherishing a spirit of continued harmony, forbearance 
and charity. There cannot be union without harmony ; there 
cannot be harmony without forbearance; and there cannot be 
forbearance without charity. Without love, onlv the imper- 
fections of others will be observed ; without a principle of for- 
bearance, those imperfections will excite unpleasant and irri- 
tated feelings ; and with such feelings, there can be no harmony 
and no co-operation, and, of course, none of their thrice happy 
consequences. Let each member of this church then, recollect, 
that he is a member of a body, and not that body. Now, the 
welfare of the body depends upon its possession of all its mem- 
bers, and upon their right discharge of their separate functions. 
Let not the head strive against the feet, or the feet against the 
hands ; but let all work together, in their individual sphere, and 
then will there be energy and power. Let each member of this 
church recollect that, in this life, no man is perfected ; no man is 
free from sin, or frailty; but that in many things all offend. 
Each will retain his peculiarities, moulded and refined accord- 
ing to the measure of his holiness. Except not, then, in any 
human being, a man without passions, or free from all distin- 
guishing traits of character and disposition. In all your 
intercourse, therefore, as members of the church, "bear ye one 
another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." Let the 
strong bear the infirmities of the weak ; and let each esteem the 
other better than himself, "in love preferring one another." 

Thus will "charity cover a multitude of sins ;" hide manifold 
deficiencies ; "hope all things ; bear all things ; suffer long ; seek 
not her own things ; be not easily provoked ; and think no evil." 
Above all things, therefore, brethren, if ye would dwell together 
in unity, and peace, and concord, "have fervent charity among 
yourselves." "Live in peace, and the God of love and peace 
shall be with you." Your ways will be ways of pleasantness, 
and all your paths peace. 

And that you may be encouraged in this and every other 
christian duty, reflect much upon that goodness of God which 
has hitherto followed this church. Only fourteen individuals 
assembled when it was determined to enter upon the adventur- 
ous work of the formation of this church. Of these, some were 
soon taken away. God gave you and your plan favour in the 
sight of this community. You have been strengfthened under 
every pressing difficulty, by sympathy and by more substantial 


kindness. Thirty-one members composed the congregation in 
1809. It now numbers two hundred and one white communi- 
cants,* and towards a hundred coloured members ; and this too 
notwithstanding all its losses, removals and deaths. You have 
endured seasons of drought and famine ; you have sustained the 
effects of earthquake, of storm, and of tempest, when the very 
foundation stones seemed to tremble ; but an arm of deliverance 
was outstretched, and a shelter provided. To this high rock 
then, fly, in every moment of despondency. When your soul 
would be cast down and disquieted within you, shelter your- 
selves under those wings, which have been outspread over you. 
Be not fearful for the future, but trust in God, who, as he has 
been your God, so will he be the God of your children's children, 
unto the third and fourth generation of them that fear him. 

It is pleasant to see the fruits of our toil, and to gather in the 
harvest of our anxious labours. It is delightful, when we have 
cast our bread upon the waters to "find it again after many 
days." And when we have given of our time, and interest, and 
property, to any cause, it is highly pleasing to know that, in so 
doing, we have not laboured in vain, nor spent our strength for 
nought. And is not this your joy, who have thus toiled, and 
laboured, and expended your money on this vineyard of the 
Lord? You planted, and has not the seed grown? You 
planted, and is it not now a goodly tree ? Is it not as a tree of 
the Lord, as the glory of Lebanon, or the palm of Judea ? Has 
it not become resplendent with blossoms of righeousness ; has 
it not borne fruits of piety? And while its leaves are still 
found effectual to the healing of the spiritually diseased, how 
many of its shoots, transplanted into heavenly soil, are now 
growing fast by those rivers which water the paradise of God? 
Here are, even at this present time, upwards of three hundred 
immortal spirits who have been collected here like birds in 
autumn, when the cold blasts of winter remind them of their 
sunnier home, that they may prepare themselves for a flight 
beyond this region of sin and sorrow and death. How many 
are already among the happy throng of the worshippers in that 
upper sanctuary, who trace to this Zion their spiritual birth, 
and were here fitted for that inheritance of light? And how 
many in the desert places of the American forest ; in the sandy 
plains of India; in the wilds of Araby; in the islands of the 
Pacific ; may find their way to that blest abode, and unite in the 
everlasting song of redemption, through the instrumentality of 
this church? 

I am thus naturally led, as another lesson, forcibly taught us 
by our subject, to call your attention to the happiness of be- 

*Sixteen have been added since. 


Stowing our charity while we live. On this subject I will quote 
the strong and fervent language of Bishop Atterbury : 

"There are many sensible enough of their obligations to 
charity, and resolved, some time or other, to discharge them ; 
but they desire to be excused from that duty for the present, 
and put it off, perhaps to a will or a death-bed, and think it 
sufficient, if they begin to do good in the world at any time 
before they leave it. A very fatal error, and very fruitful of ill 
consequences ! for a death-bed charity is no better, in its kind, 
than a death-bed repentance; which ought not, indeed, to be 
neglected (because it is the best thing we can do in those cir- 
cumstances), but yet cannot be relied on. Seldom do either of 
these proceed from a principle of goodness ; nor are they owing 
to a love of virtue, but to a fear of punishment. However, God 
forbid that I should condemn, or discourage either of them, any 
further than is requisite to awaken us into an earlier sense of 
our duty, and of the danger with which such delays are at- 
tended ! Indeed, when a man has lived in the practice of 
charity, he may also die in it with comfort. But of what great 
worth can that sacrifice be, which we never had the heart to 
offer, till it was going to be snatched out of our hands? If we 
can part with that only which we can keep no longer, what 
thanks have wef Whatsoever we employ in charitable uses, 
during our lives, is given away from ourselves ; what we be- 
queath at our deaths, is given away from others only, — our 
nearest relations and friends, who else would enjoy it. Be- 
sides, how many testamentary charities have been defeated by 
the negligence or fraud of executors? by the suppression of a 
will? the subornation of witnesses, or the corrupt sentence of 
a judge? How preposterous is it, never to set about works of 
charity, whilst we ourselves can see them performed ; and then 
only to intend the doing of them when it will be in the power of 
another to frustrate this good intention ? Nay, but be thou thy 
own executor, in such cases, as much as possible. Inure thyself 
betimes to the love and practice of good deeds ; for the longer 
thou deferrest to be acquainted with them, the less every day 
thou wilt find thyself disposed to them. Age itself, that weak- 
ens all other passions and desires, adds to our unnatural love 
of money; and makes us then most fondly hug and retain the 
good things of life, when we have the least prospect, ourselves, 
of enjoying them. He only, who hath had an early relish of 
the pleasures of beneficence, will then be persuaded to abound 
in it ; will be ready to give, glad to distribute." 

This, brethren, you have done. This course you have taken. 
This happiness is yours. You have already erected a monu- 
ment which will outlive you, and which, while it speaks your 


praise, will benefit your children, bless posterity, and glorify 

As in this erection, and in all this self-denying labour, you 
have had immediate and constant reference to the spiritual and 
eternal welfare of your children, shall I conclude without point- 
ing out to them their privileges and their obligations ? 

Children of this church ! is it not your privilege and your 
duty, to carry out and sustain the purposes of your fathers? 
You love them ; will you not love what was dear to them as life 
itself? You honour them; will you not honour that which is 
the fruit of their labour, energy and sacrifice? You delight in 
their happiness ; if living, what can give them greater happiness 
than to see you following in their footsteps, as far as they are 
followers of Christ, and rallying round that church in which is 
garnered their affections and their hopes ; and if ascended on 
high, what tidings from the earth could be so welcome to them 
as the joyful news, that, their children, whom they had left as 
orphans in a dangerous and sinful world, had found a safe and 
peaceful asylum in the bosom of their church ? 

Alexander gloried in pus'hing his father's victories to the ends 
of the earth. Hannibal, that it might exalt the glory of his 
father, with incomparable toil, pressed his way to the very gates 
of Rome. It is the glory of a child to perpetuate and emblazon 
the honor of his parents. And shall the (Children of this church, 
who were born within her ; who were carried by their parents, 
and placed within her arms, in tender infancy ; that they might 
receive her holiest blessing, and w'ho have grown up under her 
watchful care, feel no solicitude for her increase, prosperity 
and advancement? Oh for the sanctified spirit of Alexander 
and of Hannibal, in you who boast as your parents, those who 
were devoted in life, interest and affection to the welfare of this 
church. Would that we could see you, like another j^neas* or 
another Appius, bearing on your shoulders, and carrying for- 
ward, by your devotion, that which constituted their life and 
happiness. To you, children of the church, have your fathers 
entrusted the guardianship, the perpetuity, the stability of this 
Zion. Yours is the honored task of fulfilling their desires, and 
carrying forward to full accomplishment their purposes. This 
is your spiritual home. Here did you first listen to the sound 
of salvation, and feel the sweet power of devotion. Here were 
your infant feet planted on the way that leads to immortality 
and glory. Here were you consecrated to the service of the 
God of Heaven ; of Christ, the Saviour of men ; of the Spirit, 
the sanctifier and comforter; and to the future service of this 
church, which is the temple of their worship and praise. The 
recollections and the impressions of your childhood you can 

♦Virgil, i. 2. 707. 

5 — Vol. v. 


never obliterate, and they bind you to this house of God with 
strong and inseparable ties. Much of your happiness is cen- 
tered here. Cherish that home-feeling of remembrance and 
attachment for the scenes, where the morning of your days, and 
life's early boyhood, were so happily passed ; it is a goodly feel- 
ing of our nature, and may, as in this case, be made assistant 
to the highest virtue. This church is not only the home of your 
infancy; not only the vista where scenes of heaven were first 
opened to your view ; not only the Pisgah-mount from whence 
your fathers caught glimpses of the promised land, and from 
which they entered into rest — it is their mausoleum. They are 
here, or will be here, gathered to their fathers. Around this 
building, reposing in their dreamless beds, they will await in 
silence the sound of the archangel's trump. Their names will 
be seen sculptured on these walls, or upon those stones which 
protect them from the rudely passing tread of the stranger, to 
whom their virtues and their merits were unknown. When 
they are gone from you, and you can hear no more their voice 
of affection, and no more press, in the kiss of love, their lips of 
kindness, and receive no more their gifts of tenderness. — you 
will come here what time the moon sheds her soft melancholy 
radiance over the nightly scene, or while the shadows of eve's 
twilight hour dispose the heart to meditation, and you will muse 
upon the dead. And as the wind whispers in the trees without, 
or sounds through the hollow aisle, their form and memory will 
present themselves before you, and you will feel happy. 

Recall then, Spirit of Grace, every wanderer, to this spiritual 
home! Fix here the fond attachment of every child of this 
church! Draw out towards Thee, and it, their love and 
energy ! Unite to Thee, and to the hope of their parents, their 
erring souls ; and at the hour of resurrection, may every family, 
united and undivided arise to meet thee, as their reconciled God 
and everlasting portion. 

Ah, my hearers, that final day comes hastening on, and the 
voice cries aloud, "All flesh is grass, and the glory thereof as 
the flower of the field." "Who is left among you that saw this 
house in her first glory? and how do ye see it now?" In the 
short space of twenty-six years, how has the fashion of it 
passed away. Change is inscribed upon it all. Of the four- 
teen who first assembled in February, 1809, to form this Church, 
five alone survive, and only two are now connected with it. Of 
the first committee appointed to procure its first pastor, only 
one survives. Its architect is gone. Of the thirteen appointed 
to receive subscriptions for its erection, only one remains to 
this day. Of the first standing committee of the church, the 
same individual alone exists. Of the seventy-seven who first 
subscribed their names as members of the congregation, in 


January, 1810, only twenty-two are alive to this hour, and only 
six remain in connection with this church. Of the five trustees 
chosen in 1823, two are gone. Of the association formed in 
1823, of about forty, fifteen are dead. Three of its pastors sleep 
the sleep of death. Seven elders are, with these pastors, num- 
bered with the departed. Two who have presided over its 
interests, now meet in its councils no more. And in that time 
what changes has the material building itself undergone ! Twice 
was it unroofed by the tempest. Above, below, and around, 
there are evidences of change. And it is now still further ne- 
cessary to protect it by a new covering from the ravages of 
time's destructive waste. 

Dear brethren, lay these things to heart. Work while it is 
called day, for the night cometh, in which no man can work. 
Since my assumption of this office, about seventy individuals, 
many of them members of the church, have been consigned to 
this grave-yard. At this rate, how soon will it receive us all, 
and its grass cover us. Let us then "so number our days, that 
we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." Let us not imagine, 
like the rich man in the parable, that we have many years and 
rnuch earthly good before us ; but let us rather live as if this 
night our soul may be required of us ; so that when the master 
comes, whether at morning, noon, or even midnight, he may 
find us watching. Blessed is that man whom his Lord when he 
cometh, shall find thus ready. 







March 12th, 1837. 


Hail to the Church, the bulk of sacred temple! 

By the hands of wisdom reared, and lifted above the cloud 

Of the dense air, which town or city breeds 

To intercept the sun's glad beams. 

Who cannot perceive 
What in these holy structures we possess 
Of ornamental interest, and the charm 
Of pious sentiment diffused afar, 
And human charity, and social love; 

And how bestowing 
Upon the thronged abodes of busy men. 
Depraved, and ever prone to £11 their minds 
Exclusively with transitory things, 
An air and mien of digniHed pursuit; 
Of sweet civility — on rustic wilds. — Wordsworth. 

The eyes of the traveller are first struck by that religious spire, the sight 
of which awakens in his bosom a multitude of feelings and recollections ; it 
is the funeral pyramid, around which the rude forefathers of the hamlet 
sleep ; but it is also the monument of joy, beneath which the sacred brass or 
marble records the life of the believer. Here husband and wife are again 
united; here Christians fall prostrate at the foot of the altar; the weak to 
pray to the God of might, the guilty to implore the God of mercy. Does a 
landscape appear naked, dreary and desert? Introduce a rural steeple, and 
the whole instantly becomes animated; the soothing ideas of pastor and 
FioCK, of an asylum for the traveller, and of hospitality and Christian 
fraternity, spring up on every side. — Chateaubriand. 



How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts! 

When the elders of the Jews besought Jesus to heal the ser- 
vant of the Centurion at Capernaum, they thought it a sufficient 
recommendation to say, "That he was worthy for whom he 
should do this, for he loveth our nation, and hath built us a 
synagogue." The justness of the plea our Saviour acknow- 
ledged, and he went with them, and efifected upon the servant 
a miraculous cure. Prior to the time of the Babylonish cap- 
tivity, the Jews, it is believed, held their social meetings for 
religious worship in the open air, or in the houses of the pro- 
phets. But after the captivity, and most probably by the direc- 
tion of the prophets, the utility of such "places of assembly," 
for such is the literal meaning of the word Synagogue, became 
so obvious, that they were scattered over the country, and con- 
stituted the churches of the Jews, where they held their regular 
and stated services. 

The erection of a church we regard as a most interesting and 
important event, — more serviceable to a community than that of 
a more splendid building, devoted to other purposes ; and there- 
fore more truly patriotic. Not only are they ornaments, with- 
out which any city or village looks bare and deserted ; without 
which any scene, however otherwise beautiful, wants its sweet- 
est charm ; and without which no poet can throw over his de- 
lineations of nature, the perfection of loveliness ; they are foun- 
tains also of moral influence. They have a tongue and an 
utterance given to them, which speak aloud in behalf of the best 
interests of man, and of society. This will appear, if we con- 
sider their moral, their use, and their end. 

I. By the moral of churches, we mean the lessons they are 
adapted to teach. They are symbols. By their natural prop- 
erties and appearance, they represent moral truths. They are 
emblematic of things invisible and spiritual. They are not 
dumb shows, but significant, and pregnant with the most im- 
proving reflections. Who can look upon the heavens, and not 
hear them saying, as they shine, "The hand that made us is 
divine?" Who can gaze on nature, without being taught les- 
sons concerning nature's God? And no more can the eye rest 
thoughtfully upon a temple of grace without having correspon- 
dent emotions enkindled in the heart. 

72 THE MORAL influence; OF A CHURCH. 

Man is occupied in making provision for the senses, in pro- 
curing food for his craving appetites, and in keeping at a dis- 
tance the gaunt forms of penury, nakedness and famine. He is 
too apt, therefore, to become sensual ; to think only of what 
pertains to the senses ; to enjoy only what depends upon the 
senses ; and to be devoted only to their gratification. These 
sacred buildings, interspersed along his path, teach him that he 
has a higher nature, of which the senses are the servants ; a 
nobler being, to which these are made subservient. His eye is 
thus inverted from the outward to the inward ; from the physi- 
cal to that thinking principle through which it lives and has its 
being. And thus do they serve as mirrors, set up in the midst 
of a community, in which are reflected back upon each man's 
heart the lineaments of his spiritual character; where he can 
read his true dignity, and learn his just importance. 

Man is circumscribed in his view, by earth and earthly scenes. 
These form his horizon. He sees not beyond. He rises not 
above. All his movements are on this level. All his plans 
revolve around this centre. These, however, point him to the 
skies. They are golden ladders, by which in spirit he can as- 
cend. Heaven is a glorious temple ; and these are miniature 
representations of the heavenly temple. In them heaven 
descends to earth, and lifts the soul from earth to heaven. They 
lend us wings. They enable us to fly. They guide us in our 
flight, and give us visions of a higher, purer, and better world. 
While fog and vapour may hang upon the city, alas, too signifi- 
cant of that darkness which envelopes the minds of its inhabit- 
ants, these assure us that in that upper sanctuary, all is bright- 
ness and unclouded sunshine. 

Man is swallowed up in the present. It is to him all-engross- 
ing. For it alone he is solicitous. A veil hangs between it 
and the future. The incessant claims of ever-present interest 
leave him no wish to penetrate the gloom. These direct him to 
the future. They are links of eternity, by which he is bound to 
it, and made to feel an interest in it. Religion was the inven- 
tor, and has ever been the patron of architecture, and her first 
efforts were devoted to the religious interests of man. In his 
solemn moments, when he realizes eternity, man erects these 
monuments, that in the busy turmoil of life he may be brought 
to recollection. 

Man is so much left to his own sway, and to his own self- 
government, untrammelled and unguided, as to need much a 
friendly monitor. For who can bear rule, and keep under his 
own spirit ; who can walk in a path of unfettered freedom, and 
subjugate as he ought to his own passions? Do we not see 
man becoming more obstinate, than the mule; more unreason- 
able, than irrational animals ; and more violent, than the moun- 


tain torrent. We like therefore, to see these temples of piety- 
rising among the scenes of business, and lifting their heads 
among the masts of commerce. They are constant monitors, 
They speak powerfully to man's heart. And yet they are silent, 
and never offend by their officious intermeddling. They thus 
serve to keep the proper balance in man's spirit, that in his 
attention to this world he may not forget another, and that in 
the exercise of authority he may remember his own responsi- 
bility to a higher tribunal. 

Man too, in his contact with the selfishness, craftiness, and 
disappointments of the world, is constantly harassed and per- 
plexed. And do these not help to soothe his irritated feelings, 
to calm the troubled spirit, to bring him to recollection, and to 
restore him to himself ? In the midst of warring elements, and 
the principles of discord, these arise like temples of peace, where 
the waves of passion are stayed ; they are the beacon torch in 
the storms of ocean, throwing light upon the path of danger. 

In the successful pursuit of worldly occupation, and the ad- 
vantages and outward privileges connected with the possession 
of this world's goods, man is insensibly led to cherish a spirit of 
pride, and of fancied superiority. He is ready to think, that 
there are, not only the accidental distinctions among men, aris- 
ing from the contingent events of life, but essential varieties 
and grades. Here, however, the spirit of pride is crushed ; the 
high imaginations are brought down, and the more becoming 
spirit of humility and kindness fostered. Here the essential 
equality of all men in the judgment of heaven, their common 
participation in a common nature, their equal destinies, and the 
impartiality of God, who regardeth not the persons of men, are 
most forcibly inculcated. 

While each individual in a community is pursuing his own 
interest, with all the ardour of his soul, the spirit of society is 
insensibly lost, in a selfish individuality. The community is 
resolved into its fragments, and the public good lost in private 
welfare. Here is a bond of union. Here selfishness is frowned 
down. Here man is made to feel his relation to his fellow man ; 
to consider all his brethren ; to feel that their happiness is his ; 
and to live not for himself, but for the whole. 

And finally, from all these causes, men are too strongly in- 
clined to forget God ; to neglect his reasonable claims ; and to 
imagine that he sits far removed on the throne of the universe, 
an indifferent or unconscious spectator of their conduct. But 
by the presence of these buildings, set apart to God, this spirit 
of scepticism is, as it were, visibly confuted. By the appeal 
they make, even to the senses, is man reminded that there is a 
God who judgeth in the earth ; that though in heaven, he is also 
on earth ; and that his eyes behold the evil and the good. 


If such then, are the lessons which they teach, such the moral 
they impress upon the heart, what is the value and importance 
of churches to society ? If they thus dignify human nature, if 
they thus adorn society, if they are thus a constant and living 
monument to men, preaching, even when they are closed, how 
great is the privilege of assisting in their erection and preserva- 
tion. To make them in these respects as impressive as they 
might be, with what taste should they be formed, and with what 
care should they be perpetuated ! The silent, unspeaking influ- 
ence, to which I have adverted, has, I have no doubt gradually 
subdued the irreligious aversion of many, and led them into 
those paths where they have afterwards found peace and joy. 

II. Such is the effect which the existence of churches in a 
community may be reasonably expected to have, at least in some 
degree, upon all its members. This, however, is but the reflec- 
tion of that radiance which they cast upon those who truly im- 
prove and enjoy them. We are therefore led to consider their 
use. They are not made to point a moral or suggest a lesson, 
however important this may be. They are dedicated to man's 
higher nature, to that by which he is related to God, to the 
spiritual world and to eternity. They are dedicated to the wor- 
ship of the Supreme Being, a capacity for which, is man's chief 
distinction and glory, allying him to higher orders of intelli- 
gences, and qualifying him for the occupations of heaven. They 
call man off from the service of the body, of the world, of time, 
of all idols, and all false sources of expected happiness — to 
worship Him who is the true and very God. They turn him 
away from inanimate creation to the living source of all crea- 
tion. They direct him from the unsatisfying nature of all 
things earthly to the all-sufiicient fountain of all goodness. 
Here we worship God, do him homage, and give him the rever- 
ence due unto his name. But here we worship him in that 
peculiar and most attractive character of Father, cherishing 
towards us the disposition, shewing towards us the kindness, the 
pity, the sympathy, and the forbearance, and exercising over us 
the authority of a Father. As our Father, he imparted to man 
his own likeness, designed him for his glory and enjoyment, and 
destined him to immortality. As our Father, he still looks 
down with pity upon his rebellious and ungrateful children ; and 
has so loved them, as to provide redemption for them, restora- 
tion to him, and reunion with him. We here then, worship 
him not only as God the Father, but as God the Son, Immanuel 
God with us, God manifests in the flesh, Christ risen in glory, 
Jesus the ever living friend of the lost and the wretched. This 
house is dedicated, not only to the worship of God as Father, 
but God as Son, and God as Holy Ghost ; and yet God as One 
God, besides whom, in this mystery of his being, in this glory 


of his nature, in this revelation of his infinite and inconceivable 
mercy, there is, there can be, none else. By worshipping this 
God here, in spirit and in truth, by hearing his commands, obey- 
ing his precepts, confiding in his promises, accepting his over- 
tures, and doing his will, we are justified, sanctified, glorified, 
and completely redeemed from the curse of sin, and the ruins 
of the fall ; made again partakers of the divine nature, and heirs 
of glory, heaven, and immortality. 

III. But to this, necessarily brief, allusion to the use to which 
churches are devoted, let us add as brief a consideration of 
their end ; and our view of their nature, value and importance 
will be completed. 

Every church may be regarded as a true oracle, — a place 
where answers are given to the inquiries of his people, by that 
God who is here worshipped. Here God communicates his 
revelations and messages. Here he makes known his decisions, 
and announces his will. It is the house of prayer. It is the 
christian's oratory. It is God's presence chamber; the out- 
court of his temple, where he meets his people, and hears their 
prayer and their supplication which they make before him. He 
hallows the house thus built for him, "puts his name there for 
ever, where his eyes shall be open, and his ears attent unto the 
prayer that is made in this place." ''How amiable are thy 
tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts !" They are pledges of Heaven's 
mindfulness and mercy. They are pyramids in the desert. 
Here God reveals himself as a sun and a shield, giving grace 
and glory, and withholding no good thing from them that walk 
uprightly. Here God waters those who have been planted in 
the house of the Lord, and makes them flourish in the courts of 
our God. Here God is found of those who seek him ; he gives 
to those who ask of him ; he opens his love to those who knock 
at this gate of promise. Here God hears the sighing of the 
needy, and the groans of the penitent, and gives his Holy Spirit 
to them that ask it. We dedicate this house to prayer. Come 
up here to meet your God. And if "thou shalt seek the Lord 
thy God thou shalt find him ; if thou seek him with all thy heart 
and soul. Now set your heart and your soul to seek the Lord 
your God. Trust in him at all times, ye people ; pour out your 
heart before him. The Lord is nigh them that are of a broken 
heart, and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." 

Every church is also an asylum. It is a place of security and 
retreat, where, as criminals and debtors we may find shelter 
from justice. "A glorious high throne is the place of our sanc- 
tuary," not a throne of justice and judgment, but a throne of 
grace. Here God is enthroned in mercy. Here he displays his 
bow of love in the clouds of his anger. In the midst of his 
wrath against sin, and his indignation against transgressors, he 


remembers mercy. Here the weary may find rest, and the per- 
secuted succour, the weak be strengthened and the downcast 
revived. Here there is a refuge from every storm and a shelter 
from every blast, and grace to help in every time of need. Here 
God binds up the broken hearted, gives "liberty to the captive, 
beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment 
of praise for the spirit of heaviness." Here he appears as "the 
Father of lights from whom cometh down every good and per- 
fect gift;" as the good physician who has balm for every 
wound, and healing for every sickness ; the tender shepherd who 
calls after every wandering sheep, and brings it back in gentle- 
ness to the fold of mercy. This house is dedicated as a chris- 
tian oracle, and as a christian asylum. "Blessed are they that 
dwell in thy house, O Lord." Yea, even the fearful sparrow 
and the timid swallow, fancy they have found a secure habita- 
tion, where they may lay their young when they have built a 
nest on thine altars, O Lord of Hosts. Let us then, come boldly 
unto this throne of grace, that we may find grace and mercy. 
For through Christ Jesus, we have access by one spirit unto the 
Father, and where two or three are gathered together, there is 
He in the midst of them. 

Every church should also be regarded as a birth place of 
souls. The church is the pillar and ground of the truth. Her 
walls are salvation, and her gates praise. Here God waits to 
be gracious, for he loveth Zion more than all the dwellings of 
Jacob. He bows the heavens and comes down, he inclines his 
ear, and outstretches his saving arm. Blessed are the people 
that know the joyful sound, they shall walk, O Lord, in the 
light of thy countenance. They shall be abundantly satisfied 
with the fatness of thy house, and thou shalt make them drink 
of the river of thy pleasures. Blessed is the man whom thou 
choosest, that he may dwell in thy courts. He will be satisfied 
with the goodness of thy house, even of thy holy temple. For 
it hath pleased God by the foolishness of preaching, to save 
them that believe. Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by 
the word of God. And of this and that man, it will, we trust, 
be said in heaven, he was born here. 

This house, then, we dedicate to the salvation of souls, those 
temples of the Holy Ghost, which are of more value in the esti- 
mation of God, than all the splendour of palaces ; whose re- 
demption could not be purchased by all the riches of the world, 
and which shall be gathered from the ruins of the universe, into 
the everlasting kingdom of God. Here wisdom crieth aloud 
and spareth not. "How long, O how long ye simple ones, will 
ye love simplicity; and the scorners delight in their scorning, 
and fools hate knowledge ? Turn you at my reproof : behold, I 
will pour out my spirit upon you, I will make known my words 

the; moral influence of a church. 77 

unto you." Here God says with continued importunity to the 
sinner, "Seek ye my face, turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die." 
Here Christ stands, as he did on the great day of the feast, and 
with a loud voice cries "If any man thirst, let him come unto 
me, and drink. He that believeth on me as the scripture hath 
said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. Ho every 
one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no 
money ; come ye, buy, and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk 
without money and without price. Wherefore do ye spend 
money for that which is not bread? and your labour for that 
which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye 
that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. 
Incline your ear unto me : hear, and your soul shall live ; and I 
will make an everlasting covenant wth you, even the sure 
mercies of David." And O how sweet will it be, in yonder 
world of glory, to look back on the scenes of our earthly proba- 
tion, and remember, O Zion, how our hearts were glad when 
they said unto us let us go up to the house of the Lord ! 

And lastly, every church may be regarded as a nursery for 
heaven, where the plants "flourish and bring forth fruit," until 
transplanted to the paradise above they drink in the waters of 
life, and bear the golden fruits of glory. Here we meet as 
travellers by the way, as "we go from strength to strength, until 
every one in Zion appeareth before God." Here as we pass 
through the dreary valley we find a well of salvation and spirit- 
ual refreshment and drink in fresh vigour. Here, in our war- 
fare against flesh and blood, against principalities and powers, 
we clothe ourselves in the whole armour of God that we may be 
able to stand against the wiles of the devil. Here in this toil- 
some, weary race, we shake oE the dust of sloth, gird up the 
loins of our mind and again press forward "toward the mark 
for the prize of our high calling." Here the strong bear the 
infirmities of the weak, and the brother of high degree minis- 
tereth to him that is low, the prosperous weep with them that 
weep, while the afflicted rejoice with them that rejoice; and all 
with one heart and one soul, strive together in "unity of the 
spirit and the bonds of peace," until that blessed hour arrives 
when faith shall become vision, hope fruition, and charity shall 
become all and in all. Here, in our wandering through this 
wilderness of earth, we encamp until all arrive at last, where 
there shall be one God and Father of all, one Lord, and one 

Such is the moral, such the use, and such the end of a Church 
of Christ. And it is in the contemplation of these, a proper 
estimate can be made of their real worth. This present build- 
ing, which we now dedicate as a church for social religious 


exercises, is more likely to promote these ends, than the one we 
have left. It is in a more central and public location ; it is more 
visible ; and it is in itself more beautiful and appropriate. It 
is the fruit of much labour; the result of many anxieties, long 
garnered in many hearts. Towards it there have been many 
bright anticipations ; while around it is gathered the grateful 
incense of many prayers. We enter it for the first time, full of 
hope, that it may be to us as a day spring from on high ; that it 
may be for a bulwark to our beloved Zion ; that it may be fruit- 
ful as the womb of the morning ; and that our youth may here 
be led to salvation, numerous as the drops of dew. Let me 
trust, that you will give to these bright prospects of joyous 
expectancy and hope, the delightful charm of fond recollec- 
tions. Let this room be regarded as the old made new ; as still 
our Lecture-room, though changed in locality and form. Make 
this the repository of the past, and treasure up in this building, 
the happy associations connected with the former. Transfer 
from the one to the other, those nameless indescribable emo- 
tions, which many of you cherish with the remembrance of 
other days. Our Lecture-room we can never forget : never, no 
never ! For there we, or our children, or friends, were first 
made to know the power, the peace, and the purity of the Gos- 
pel. There, we have enjoyed hours of heaven, visions of bliss, 
and ecstacies of feeling, whose memory is still a pleasant dream. 
The friends and companions of other years accompanied us 
there; and voices now silent in the grave were heard there. 
But we have only changed the outward accommodation, and we 
consecrate this building to the spirit of the past. This is the 
future home of all fond and endearing thoughts ; around which 
we will concentrate our tenderest regards. And our most ear- 
nest prayer is, that the glory of this latter house may be as the 
former; that God may baptize it with the same Pentecostal 
blessing ; and that it may arise and shine, the glory of the Lord 
being risen upon it. 

I congratulate you, in the name of my country, this city, 
humanity and religion, all whose interests you have subserved, 
on that liberality, and zeal, which has completed this building; 
and upon the taste and beauty with which, in ts simple neatness, 
it is erected ; and I pray that all its purposes may be accom- 
plished in your souls through eternal ages. 

To thee, O Father, Son and Holy Ghost, in humble and ador- 
ing reverence, we thy servants would now dedicate this build- 
ing. For thy glory it is, and was erected, and to thy name shall 
be all the praise, of all the good accomplished by it, for ever. 
"Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlast- 
ing doors ; and the King of glorv shall come in. Who is this 


king of glory ? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty 
in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; even lift them up, ye 
everlasting doors ; and the King of glory shall come in. Who 
is this King of glory? the Lord of Hosts, he is the King of 
glory." Amen and Amen. 







6— Vol.. V. 



Origin of the Association. 

Whe;rEas, an Association was formed for the purpose of 
raising a fund for the extinguishment of a debt due by the 
Corporation of the Second Presbyterian Church, on certain 
conditions, as expressed in Resolutions ratified by that body 
on 3d August, 1823, in words following, viz : — 

Resolved, That an Association be formed for the purpose of 
raising a fund for paying or extricating the Corporation from 
the debt now due by the Church, as per Schedule, amounting 
to twenty-three thousand four hundred and sixty-five dollars, 
sixty-seven cents. 

Resolved, That the Corporation shall transfer all their right, 
title, and interest to the said Company or Association when they 
have made the necessary arrangements for extricating the Cor- 
poration from the debt, still reserving the right to all pew- 
holders who have paid the original assessment, and who shall 
pay to this Association an amount equal to the assessment of 
1817 and become stockholders to that amount. And the pew- 
holders paying that sum, shall not be liable to any future assess- 
ment by the present Corporation, or the Association to be 
formed for the payment of the debt now due by the Church. 

Pozver of the Association. 

Resolved, That the temporal affairs of the Church, viz., such 
as fixing salaries, pew rents, &c., shall be under the exclusive 
control and management of the Association, who shall make 
such bye laws as they may deem suitable for the interest of the 
Church ; and in all the elections of proprietors they shall be 
entitled to vote in the following ratio, viz. : 

Each member who has paid one hundred to two hundred 
dollars, one vote. 

Above two hundred, to four hundred dollars, two votes. 

Above four hundred, to eight hundred dollars, three votes. 

Above eight hundred, to fourteen hundred dollars, four votes. 

Above fourteen hundred, to two thousand dollars, five votes. 


Above two thousand, to three thousand dollars, six votes. 
Above three thousand, to five thousand dollars, seven votes. 
Above five thousand dollars, eight votes. 

Right of Voting. 

Provided, nevertheless ; that in all elections for Pastor and 
Clerk and in all the spiritual affairs of the Church the male 
pewholders only, shall be entitled to one vote each ; but any 
person who has not been a pewholder for one year previous to 
the election, or who exceeds six months in arrears for rent, 
cannot debate, or vote, until his arrears are paid up ; except 
within the first year, when six months pew rent will be required 
in advance before any such pewholders will be entitled to vote. 

Doctrines of the Church. 

Resolved, That the said Association shall guarantee, that the 
doctrines of the Presbyterian Church, according to the Confes- 
sion of Faith, as established by the General Assembly of the 
Presbyterian Church in the United States, shall be the rule of 
government for the Church. 


And whereas agreeably to the said Resolutions, an Associa- 
tion was formed and did extinguish the debt, as specified in 
said Resolutions, and on the 1st day of January, 1828, a regular 
and legal transfer of all the corporate property was made to 
John Robinson, James Adger, William Aiken, William Smith, 
jr., and Richard Cunningham, in trust for said Association, by 
Alexander Black, Esq., President of said Corporation, by and 
under the stipulations of the aforesaid Resolution, and also by 
the direction of that body under a resolution unanimously 
adopted on the 21st day of August, 1827, in words following, 
namely : 

Resolved, That the President of the Corporation, be author- 
ized and directed to transfer and sign over, forthwith, to such 
persons, as may be appointed Trustees by the Association, all 
the right, title and interest of this Corporation, in and to the 
premises of the Second Presbyterian Church, subject however, 
to such reservations and provisions as are contained in the 
resolutions approved and confirmed by this Corporation on the 
3d August 1823. And as every association or union of men, 
either for civil or religious purposes, must of necessity be 
governed by certain known and established rules, the Associa- 
tion of the Second Presbyterian Church, having agreed to define 
the great outlines of their government, in accordance with the 
foregoing preamble, in bye-laws, which shall be binding on all, 
who are, or who may become members thereof. for temporal government. 85 

Doctrine and Govcrmnent of the Church. 

The contract entered into by this Association, with the Cor- 
poration of the Second Presbyterian Church, for the purchase 
of the same, agreeably to the preamble to these rules, not being 
as fully explained, as this Association intended, as regards the 
election of Pastor, and Clerk, and the government, doctrine and 
discipline of the Church. 

Be it, therefore understood and agreed, that in the preamble 
in the paragraph beginning with the words "provided, &c.," 
(See p. 105,) the words "except within the first year," refer 
to the first year of the existence of the Association ; and that 
the words commencing with "Resolved," (See p. 105,) be 
understood that this church, under the name and title of the 
Second Presbyterian Church of the city and suburbs of Charles- 
ton, shall be in the government, doctrines and discipline of its 
members, the same as that of the Presbyterian Church, as con- 
tained in the Confession of Faith, and Form of Church Govern- 
ment, established by the General Assembly of the Presbyterian 
Church, in the United States of America. And this rule, shall 
be a standing and fundamental rule of this church. 

Right of Voting in the Association and to Burial Ground. 

All male stockholders in this Association to the amount of 
one hundred dollars and upwards, not under the age of twenty- 
one years, and who has signed these rules, and who holds a 
pew or half of a pew, and has held the same for twelve months, 
and has paid up his pew rent to the first day of the six months, 
in which the meeting is held, shall be entitled to consult, debate 
and vote, in all matters and things, which may of right be 
transacted by this Association, in conformity with the preamble 
set forth in these rules. 

But no Stockholder in this Association, who has not held a 
pew, or half of a pew, for twelve months, signed these rules, 
and paid up his pew rent for the previous six months, shall 
debate or vote in this Association, unless he was an original 
subscriber, to the amount of two hundred and fifty dollars, and 
has signed these rules. All original subscribers to this Associa- 
tion, to the amount of three hundred dollars or under that sum, 
shall be entitled to eight feet square of land in the burial ground 
of the church, and all original subscribers, above three hundred 
dollars, to five hundred dollars, shall be entitled to two squares 
of eight feet of ground, and all subscribers above five hundred 
dollars to seven hundred and fifty dollars, shall be entitled to 
three squares of eight feet. And all subscribers above seven 


hundred and fifty dollars, shall be entitled to eight feet square 
of ground, for every two hundred and fifty dollars subscribed ; 
with permission to inter any of their family and friends free of 
any charge, except the Clerk and Sexton's fees. 

And whereas, several members of the congregation have 
paid two hundred and fifty dollars, since the original subscrip- 
tion and transfer of the church, it is therefore agreed, that such 
subscribers, and all others who pay a like sum shall be entitled 
to all the privileges of an original subscriber. Subscribers for 
repairs at the church, and building the Lecture Room, shall be 
entitled to the same privileges when the amount reaches two 
hundred and fifty dollars and upwards. 

RULE in. 

Right of Interment and of Erecting Monuments. 

All persons who have rented a pew for the previous twelve 
months, and have paid up their pew rents regularly, shall be 
entitled to set apart eight feet square of ground in the grave 
yard, for a full pew ; and while they continue to pay pew rents 
regularly, may inter any of their immediate family therein, on 
payment of Clerk and Sexton's fees. But no monument except 
a head and foot stone, shall be erected over any grave in such 
ground unless the proprietor pays to the Association, two hun- 
dred and fifty dollars. No pew shall be considered vacant 
unless notice be given in writing to the Treasurer. 


A certificate of the following form shall be issued to each 

Form of Certificate. 

Charleston, S. C. 
This certificate entitles to an interest in the 

Association of the Second Presbyterian Church, to the amount 
of dollars, cents, ratably and 

proportionably with eighteen thousand, four hundred and fifty 
dollars, amount of capital invested, and with any additional 
sum that may hereafter be added, subject to certain resolutions 
of the corporation of the Second Presbyterian Church, of the 
city and suburbs of Charleston, ratified by that body on 3d day 
of August, one thousand eight hundred and twenty-three, and 
to such bye-laws as the Association have adopted or may here- 
after adopt, not interfering with vested rights. This certificate 
transferable only in person or by power of Attorney, at the 
office of the Secretary. 




Blection of Pastor and Clerk. 

By the resolutions in the Preamble, the election of Pastor, 
Clerk, &c., devolves on the male pewholders generally. In all 
such elections, tho-thirds of all the male pewholders, shall be 
present, and four-fifths of that number, shall be required to 
make an election. All meetings of the pewholders of this 
Church shall be called together, by the President of the Associa- 
tion, or any seven pewholders, and the President shall preside 
at all such meetings. The Secretary of the Association shall 
take down the minutes, and regularly enter them on the jour- 
nals of the Association as the proceedings of the pewholders. 


Salary of Pastor and Clerk. 

The salary of the Pastor, Clerk, &c. shall be fixed by this 
Association, by a Resolution of the same, which Resolution, 
previous to the election of a Pastor, shall be furnished to the 
Senior Elder of the Session who will be authorized under said 
Resolution, to give a call to the Pastor, when elected by the 

Spiritual Government. 

The spiritual affairs of the Church, such as the election and 
ordination of Elders, and all matters and things growing out 
of the same, shall be governed exclusively by the Pastor, Ses- 
sion and male Communicants, in good standing, when not in 
contravention to the established forms of the Presbyterian 
Church in the United States. 


Vacant Pulpit in charge of the Blders. 

The Elders, when the Church is vacant, shall have the 
charge of the pulpit, and obtain temporary supplies, and the 
standing committee shall be authorized to grant such compen- 
sation as they may think right. 


The anniversary or annual meeting of the Association, shall 
be held in the first Wednesday in April in every year. On the 
Sabbath previous, a sermon adapted to the occasion, shall be 
delivered by the Pastor of the Church, or some other clergyman 
appointed by the Session. At this meeting a President, a Sec- 
retary, and a Treasurer, shall be chosen by ballot. The Presi- 
dent shall be a member of the Association. In the absence 


of the President, a Chairman shall be appointed "pro tern." 
and not less than ten members representing twenty-five votes, 
shall be a quorum to transact business. In case of vacancy by 
death, resignation or otherwise, of any officer, the Association 
shall at the next meeting fill up the vacancy, to continue until 
next anniversary, or until another is elected. 


Duties of President. 

The President shall preside at all meetings of the Associa- 
tion and pewholders, and preserve good order and decorum 
among the members. He shall keep the Common Seal of the 
Association, and affix it to all papers and deeds, when author- 
ized to do so by the same. All speeches shall be addressed to 
him. No member shall interrupt another while speaking, and 
when two or more members rise at once, the President shall 
determine who is to be first heard. He shall have no vote 
in any matter which comes before the Association, except in 
the appropriation of money, or if the votes be equally divided, 
he shall have a casting vote. 



The Treasurer shall receive all monies belonging to the Asso- 
ciation. He shall keep proper books, in which shall be entered 
all monies received and paid away. He shall not pay away 
any monies, except the fixed salaries of the Minister, Clerk and 
Sexton, unless authorized by a vote of the Association or of the 
Standing Committee. He shall make a report to the Standing 
Committee quarterly, which report shall contain the names of 
all persons in arrears for pew rent, or otherwise indebted to 
the Church. And if he fail to make such a report, he shall 
be accountable to the Association for the amount lost 
through his neglect. He shall also prepare, and give into the 
annual meeting a fair statement of all monies received and dis- 
bursed, during the preceding year reported on by the committee, 
agreeably to the following Rule : and the names of all persons 
indebted to the Association, with the amount due by each, as 
also all other such duty, as may reasonably be required of him 
by the Association or Standing Committee ; and for the due and 
faithful discharge of his office, he shall give bond, with 
approved security to the Association, in one thousand dollars, 
whidh bond shall be duly executed and lodged with the Presi- 
dent. As a compensation for his services, he shall receive five 
per cent, on all monies received by him for pew rents. 



A uditiiig Committee. 

The President shall appoint a committee of five members to 
examine the Treasurer's annual account, together with all his 
vouchers (which he shall submit to them,) and to prepare a re- 
port thereon, to be laid before the annual stated meeting of the 
Association, for their approbation or disapprobation, which 
Committee shall meet on some day to be appointed by the Presi- 
dent previous to the annual meeting, of which he shall give 
notice to each member of the committee. 


Secretary — Yeas and Nays. 

The Secretary shall keep an exact list of the names of all the 
members of the Association, in the order which they are, or 
shall become so ; with the amount of stock held by each. He 
shall take correct minutes of every matter and thing transacted 
at the meeting of the Association or pewholders, which minutes 
he shall afterwards copy out fair in the Association minute 
book. He shall keep all papers, petitions, &c., and when a vote 
is taken, he shall, if required by three members, call over the 
names of the members present, and mark the yeas and nays. 


Stated Meetings. 

There shall be no stated meetings of the Association beside 
the annual one, on the first Wednesday in April, but the Presi- 
dent may call an extra meeting when he thinks proper; and it 
shall be his duty to call one, when he has been so requested, in 
writing, by the Pastor and Session, or by any five members of 
the Association ; and notice given in writing, left at the resi- 
dence of the members, or in their pews on the Sabbath previous 
to the meeting intended, shall be sufficient notice. 

In case of the death or absence of the President, the Standing 
Committee shall have the power to call an extra meeting. But 
no extra meeting for the transaction of secular business shall 
be held on the Sabbath. 

Form of Business. 

All business brought before the Association, or pewholders, 
shall be, by motion in writing, (if so required by the presiding 
officer) made by one member, and seconded by another ; and no 
motion shall be considered, unless seconded ; and no member 
shall speak more than twice on the same motion, without leave, 


asked and obtained; and every matter and thing which comes, 
or may of right come before the Association, shall be deter- 
mined by a majority of the votes present, except when otherwise 
determined by the rules. 


Standing Committee. 

On the anniversary meeting, a committee of six members 
shall be elected by ballot, who, together with the President, 
shall be a standing committee for the year ensuing. They shall 
attend to all the secular affairs of the Association, and also 
direct the Treasurer in all matters and things which they may 
deem necessary for the benefit of the Association; examine 
some day previous to the anniversary, the state of the funds 
of the Association, and recommend, if necessary, what rate of 
pew rents shall be assessed for the ensuing year. They shall 
also on each anniversary recommend, if necessary, to the Asso- 
ciation at what rate the interments sihall be fixed for the ensuing 
year for strangers. 


Clerk and Interments. 

All permissions for interment shall be given by the President, 
or one of the Standing Committee, directed to the Treasurer, 
and on his reciving the fees for the ground, he shall endorse 
the order to the Sexton; and in case the Clerk and Sexton 
permits any interment without the fees being first paid, he or 
they will be held responsible for the same. And the Clerk and 
Sexton shall make a return to the Treasurer, on the first day 
of each month, of all interments made, and by whom permission 
for the same was granted. The Standing Committee shall have 
power to permit the interment of indigent persons, members 
or pewholders of this church, gratis. And the Standing Com- 
mittee shall fix the duties of Clerk and Sexton. No monument 
or 'head stone shall be erected at any grave in the public ground, 
unless the following sums be paid : 


For a head and foot stone, twenty dollars ; for all other 
monuments, two hundred and fifty dollars. And no monument 
or head stone shall be put up, but under the direction of the 
Standing Committee. 

Alteration of Rules. 

None of the foregoing rules shall be altered, or new rules 
made, except proposed at an anniversary meeting, and con- 


firmed at a subsequent meeting, at which there shall be present 
two-thirds of the legal votes of the Association, and a majority 
of the votes present agreeing thereto. 


I do hereby certify, that the foregoing rules were adopted at 
a regular meeting of the Association and pewholders, of the 
Second Presbyterian Church, duly summoned and held at the 
Lecture Room of said church, at which a majority of all the 
votes were present, on the sixth of October, one thousand eight 
hundred and thirty-seven, and in the twenty-ninth year after 
the foundation was laid. 

Attest, President. 

FivEETwooD Lanneau, Secretary. 



The Second Presbyterian Church 


CHURCH, IN 1837. 




Necessity for these Rules. 

Although this Church adopt "the Confession of Faith, and 
Form of Government, and DiscipHne of the Presbyterian 
Church in the United States," as the rule of their faith and 
practice, yet inasmuch as there are several matters in the mode 
of government and discipHne, left there undetermined, by which 
a variety of practice is introduced into the churches, under the 
care of the General Assembly, the following additional rules 
are adopted. 


The Elders of the Church shall be elected by the male mem- 
bers, and shall be ordained with the imposition of hands, in the 
presence of the congregation. 



All such elections shall be decided by a majority of two- 
thirds of the members present, who shall have two weeks notice 
of the nomination of candidates for that office; which nomina- 
tion shall be made by the Session then in office. 


Admission to the Church. 

No person shall be admitted a member of this church who 
does not, on examination by the Pastor, or officiating minister, 
gives satisfactory evidence of a renewal of heart, and of faith 
and repentance towards God. 


Admission to the Church. 

All applications for admission to church membership, shall 
be made to the Session, through the Pastor. And notice of 


such intended application shall be given as long as possible 
before some regular meeting of the Session. 

Admission to the Church. 
The Session shall examine every candidate prior to admission. 


Ptiblic Profession. 

All who may be admitted to membership, shall make a public 
profession of their faith, and enter into solemn covenant with 
/Almighty God, in the presence of the congregation, on the 
morning of the Sabbath, on which the sacrament is adminis- 


Form of Public Admissioji. 

The following shall be 



You have thus presented yourselves* before Almighty God, 
with a view to dedicate yourselvesf to his service, and to be 
received as members of his visible church. By a public con- 
tract you are about to surrender yourselves to your Creator : 
to avouch the Lord to be your God ; Jesus Christ your 
Redeemer; and yourselves his servants forever. You are sur- 
rounded by witnesses who attest the compact into which you 
enter. The all-seeing eye of Jehovah is upon you : and his holy 
angels are spectators of this scene. Brethien, we trust you 
have not rashly come up hither. And in this confidence we 
invite you to approach, with a holy boldness, unto the great 
Head of the Church ; casting all your anxieties and cares upon 
Him, and relying on Him alone for grace and strength, to fulfill 
your solemn engagements. 


You believe that there is one true God constituting in his 
incomprehensible essence. Father, Son and Holy Ghost, three 
persons in one Godhead. You believe in the divine inspiration 
of the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament; and that 
they contain the only rule of faith and practice. You believe 

*The singular or plural may be used as required. 

tOr to renew your dedication. This may be used when any one joins on 


in the fall of man, in his entire depravity by nature, and in the 
necessity of repentance towards God, and faith in the Lord 
Jesus Christ. You believe, that by his humiliation, obedience 
and death, Christ made such a satisfaction to divine justice, as 
is sufificient to expiate all sin, and to remove and wash away all 
the guilt incurred by both original and actual sin, from all who 
rest upon him in truth and sincerity. You believe in the doc- 
trines of a general resurrection, and future judgment; in the 
everlasting blessedness of the righteous, and in the endless 
punishment of the finally impenitent. 


And now in the presence of these witnesses, you do solemnly 
surrender yourselves to the Lord Jehovah, receiving him as 
your portion, and acknowledging him to be the supreme object 
of your love. Depending upon divine grace for assist- 
ance, you hereby sacredly bind yourselves to glorify God by 
obedience to his laws, and by a diligent observance of his ordi- 
nances. You promise to separate yourselves from the world, 
so far as its engagements would cool your attachment to piety, 
or bring a stigma upon your holy profession. You are willing, 
to consecrate a reasonable proportion of your time, influence, 
and property, to the cause of Christ ; to co-operate in every 
good work ; to live not unto yourselves, but unto him who died 
for you ; and in your closets, in your families, and in the world, 
to act as becometh the gospel of Christ ; and as you are required 
in the word of God. You pledge yourselves, to obey the laws 
and regulations of this particular church, and to submit to its 
discipline, while you continue members of the same, throwing 
yourselves upon its care, and affectionately regarding its 


Beloved in the Lord, your engagement is sealed now. You 
have formed a contract which no power on earth can dissolve. 
These engagements will follow you through time, and accom- 
pany you to the judgment seat. 

We who are members of this church, affectionately welcome 
you to a fellowship with us. We hail you as participants in 
the same glorious hope and blessings of the gospel. 

And now wheri you depart from this place, carry with you 
the salutary recollection, that the eyes of the world are upon 
you, and that as you henceforth conduct yourselves, religion 
will be disgraced or honored. Remember that your engage- 
ment is not with man, but with God. The negligence there- 
fore, or the folly, or the coldness of otthers around you, can 
never furnish excuse for your own dereliction. You stand or 
fall, each one of you by yourselves. Abide then, near a throne 
7 — Vol. v. 

98 RUivEs FOR SPIRITUAL gove;rnme;nt. 

of grace ; be diligent in duty, watchful in life and conversation ; 
and you shall be assured of the fulfillment of that promise "that 
he who has begun a good work in you, will perform it until 
the day of Jesus Christ." 


Admission on Certificate. 

Yet although these shall be the regulations for admission, 
they shall be considered applicable only to such as have not 
been members of another church, with whom we are understood 
to be in full fellowship. Applicants from such a church, who 
present a certificate of good standing, and whose characters 
are known to be pious and exemplary, are not required to enter 
into public covenant, they having engaged in that act in the 
church from which they are translated. The voluntary renewal 
of such a profession before this church, is however considered 
proper and highly beneficial to themselves and others. The 
names of such persons after admission, shall be read from the 



The ordinance of baptism shall be administered in public; 
except under extraordinary circumstances. 


To Whom Administered. 

Baptism shall not be administered to infants, except where 
at least one of the parents is a member of the church in good 
standing; or to such as are in the opinion of the pastor, fit 



Every member of this church may expect the strictest exer- 
cise of discipline, (according to the Confession of Faith, and 
Form of Government of the Presbyterian Church) when oflfence 
is given. 


Neglect of Communion. 

Any member absenting himself from the communion twice 
in succession, shall be called upon by the Session for his reason 
for this neglect. And if no proper reason be given, he shall 


be dealt with, by the Session, for such neglect, in such ways as 
they may think proper. 


Signing the Rules. 

Every member of the Church on being admitted by the Ses- 
sion, shall sign his or her name to these Rules, in the Record 
of Church Members, as a pledge of their fidelity to their engage- 
ments, and as a mem.orial for future times. 





The Second Presbyterian Church, 







N. B. Blank space is left in which the names of future officers and mem- 
bers of the Church can be inserted, and thus make the Manual as full and 
valuable as it is now. 






When Called. 


Term, of 

Andeew Flinn, D.D. 
Artbmas Boies. 
Thos.Charlton Heney,D.D. 
William Ashmead. 

/Called in Feb., 1809. 
\ Installed April 4, 1811. 

J Called in April, 1820. 
( Installed June, 1821. 

J Called in Nov., 1823. 
( Installed Jan. 1, 1824. 

/ Called in March, 1829. 
t Installed May, 1829. 

1 Died Feb.24, 1820. 

\ Left in Aug.,1828 
S Now in Boston. 

j Died Oct. 5, 1827. 
1 Died Oct., 1829. 

11 years. 

3 years. 

4 years. 

5 months. 



When Ordained. 


Benjamin Boyd, 
John Cunningham, 
William Pressly, 
Henry Bennet, 
John Todd, 
Thomas Fleming, 
Israel C. Anthony, 
Charles O'Neale. 

March 4. 1810. 
March 4,' 1810. 
February, 1812. 
July 9, 1812. 
January 1821. 
January, 1821. 
January 1825. 
January 1825. 

Died Jan. 1811. 
Died Nov. 1815. 
Died in 1820. 
Died in 1820. 
Left in 1823. 
Left in 1823. 
Died April, 1836. 
Died in 1833, 



When elected. 

Time in office. 

Benjamin Boyd, 


1 year. 

Samuel Robertson, 


3 years. 

Stephen Thomas, 


2 years. 

William Smith, 


3 years. 

Samuel Patterson, 


1 year. 

Thomas Fleming, 


2 years. 

John Robinson. 


2 years. 

Tames Black, 


half a year. 

James Adger, 


1 yr. & a half. 

William Smith, 


2 years. 

Alexander Black, 


1 year. 

John Robinson, 


6 years. 

William Smith. 


4 years. 





When elected. 

Time in oMce. 

John Robinson, 
Thomas Fleming 
Alexander Black, 
Benjamin Hammet, 
William C. Dukes, 
Fleetwood Lanneau. 


Till 1821. 
1 year. 
1 year. 

1 year. 
Till 1835. 

2 years. 



When elected. 

Time of ofUce. 

Stephen Thomas, 


Till 1812. 

James Adger, 


2 years. 

David Bell, 


Till 1823. 

Robert Eager, 


2 years. 

William C. Dukes, 


1 year. 

Alexander Brown, 


Till 1835. 

Richard Tones, 


2 years. 

John S. Bird. 


1 year. 






Thomas Smyth. 

When called. Term of servic 

Called April, 1832. 
Installed, Dec. 29, 1834. 



Stephen Thomas, 
David Bell, 
Robert Wright, 
Charles S. Simonton, 
John Dewees. 

When ordained. 

March 4, 1810. 
February 1812. 
January 1825. 
September 10, 1837. 
do. do. 








John S. Bird. 

Term of ofUce. 



Thomas R. Vardell. 

Term of office. 




IN 1832. 


When admitted. 


Mrs. Sarah Bell, 

April, 1811. 



Mr. Richard Moore, 


Mrs. Margaret Holmes, 




Mrs. Margaret McLean, 




Mrs. Eliza Mciilmoyle, 


Mrs. Sarah Mintzy. 


Mrs. Mary Ann Thomas, 

July, 1811. 



Mrs. Margaret Gilliland, 


Mrs. Mehitable Pilsbury, 




Mrs. Hannah ciymonds. 




Mrs. Rechon, 




Mr. David Ben, 

October, 1811. 

Mrs. Margaret Fairchild, 


Mrs. Eliza Cole, 



ssed on certificate. 

Mrs. Sarah Tovey, 


Mrs. Rebecca Lanneau, 


Mrs. Jane E. Steele, 

February, 1812. 

Mrs. Joanna Bize, 

February, 1812. 

Mrs. Sarah E. Adeer, 


Miss Harriet Rechon, 


Mrs. Hannah Browning, 

May, 1812. 

Mrs. Rosina Gyles, 




Mrs. Ann Robertson, 

August, 1812. 

Mrs. Susan Robinson, 


Mrs. Rachel Jones, 


Mrs. Louisa Pringle, 

Nov. 1812. 



Mrs. Catherine Benoist, 

February, 1813. 

Mr. Robert Wright, 


Mrs. Margaret B. Crow, 

August, 1813. 

Mrs. Sarah Russell. 

October, 1814. 

Mrs. Louisa Martindale, 

now Mrs. Reeder, 


Mr. James Eraser. 

July, 1815. 

Mrs. Eliza Shaw, 

now Mrs. Alex. Black, 


Mrs. Stillman 

April, 1816. 



Mr. John Robinson, 

Nov., 1816. 

Mrs. Jane Anthony. 

January. 1817. 

Miss Martha Robertson, 

April, is 17. 

Mrs. Ann Cunningham, 

July, 1817. 

Mr. Charles S. Simonton, 


Mrs. Elizabeth Simonton 


Mrs. Elizabeth Moore, 


Miss Catherine Gordon, 


Mrs. Abigail Turner, 

July, 1820. 

Miss Ann Raymond, now 

Mrs. Stillman 

Feb., 1821. 

Mrs. Mary McBride, 

April, 1821. 



Mrs. Caroline Burke, 



ssed on certificate. 

Miss Eliza Symonds 

July, 1821. 



Miss Ann Rechon, 

February, 1822. 



Mrs. Elizabeth Brown, 





When admitted. 


Miss Margaret Robinson, 

now Mrs. Buist, 

April, 1824. 

Mrs. Susan Vardell, 


Mrs. Eliza Henry, 



ssed on certificate. 

Mrs. Catherine Malcomson, 




Mrs. Martha J. M. Thomas, 

now Mrs. Bell, 


Mr. William C. Dukes, 


Miss Elizabeth Cain, 

July, 1824. 

Mr. John Bryan, 


Mr. Henry Tovey, sen., 

Mrs. Eliza Berbant, 

Mrs. Emma Burdell, 

Miss Martha M. Rubern' 

Mrs. Catherine Wrieht, 


Miss Margaret Bennet, 




Mr. Israel C. Anthony, 


Mr. Alexander Brown, 
Mr. Charles ONeale, 

October, 1824. 



Mrs. Mary Bird, 


Mrs. Eliza C. Dukes, 

Jan., 1825. 

Mrs. Elizabeth A. J. Oneale, 


now Mrs. Garey, 


Mrs. Mary Ann Young, 


Miss Mary Ann \oung. 


Mrs. Sarah J. Gowan, 


Mr. Henry C. Tovey, 
Mr. John S. Bird, 

April, 18k;o. 

Miss Eliza McElmoyle, 


Miss Eleanor J. McElmoyle, 


Mr. D. W. Harrison, 


Miss Mary Lonp. 


Miss Ann Darrell, 
Mrs. Mary Burney, 

July, 1825. 


Mrs. Mary Greer, 


Mrs. Mary Whitaker, 


Mrs. Jane H. Johnson, 
Mrs. Sarah M. Gibbs, 

January, 1826. 

Mrs. Mehitable Bennet, 

now Mrs. Prince, 


Mrs. Hannah Bowles, 


Dismissed on certificate. 

Miss Mary Burney, 


Miss Philippa Burney, 


Miss Amelia Tovev. now 

Mrs. Vardell, 


Miss Frances C. Marchant, 

now Mrs. Douglass, 

January, 1826. 

Mrs. Ann S. Gibbs, 


Miss Amelia Lequeux, 


Miss Sarah H. jones, 

now Mrs. Patterson, 

April, 1827. 

Mrs. Isabella Snowden, 

July. 1827. 

Miss Sophia Burney. 

January, 1828. 


Miss Mary Montgomery, now 

Mrs. Fogartie, 

April, 1828. 

Miss Hannah McElmoyle, 

now Mrs. Bailey, 


Mrs. Margaret Baird, 


Mr. Thomas R. Vardell. 

October, 1828. 

Miss Jane Moore, 

now Mrs. Keckeley, 

Mr. John B. Adger, 

January, 1829. 




When admitted. 


Mrs. Elizabeth Bigelow, 

April, 1829. 


Mrs. Sarah Bird, 

June, 1829. 

Mrs. Rebecca Frazer, 


Miss Margaret M. Adger, 

now Mrs. Smyth, 


Miss Jubana Vardell now 

Mrs. Tovey, 


Mr. William Smith, sen. 

October, 1829. 

Mr. Edward S. Courtenay, 

January, 1830. 

Dismissed on 


Mrs. Elizabeth Courtenay, 


Dismissed on 


Miss Elizabeth Moore, 

now Mrs. Ham, 


Mrs. Eliza J. Wheeler, 



Miss Sarah Lequeux, 


Mrs. Martha Osborne, 


Mr. Fleetwood Lanneau, 


Mr. Peter J. Suder, 


Mr. Edward Fogartie, 


Miss Mary Vardell, now 

Mrs. Walsh, 

July, 1830. 

Miss Susan D. Ad-^er, 

October, 1830. 

Miss Margaret Black, 


Mr. Edwin Bolles, 


Dismissed on 


Mr. Robert Adger, 

January, 1831. 

Miss Amanda Harrison, 

now Mrs. Sleigh, 


Died, 1837. 

Mrs. Quintin Smith, 

April, 1831. 

Miss Elizabeth K. Shrews- 

bury, now Mrs. Adger, 


Miss Susan L. Bell, 


Mr. James Adger, jun. 


Mr. William Ogden, 

April, 1831. 

Died, 1832. 

Mr. David 0?den, 


Dismissed on 


Mr. Peter Lanneau, 


Mr. D. McNeil Turner, 


Mr. Michael P. Walsh, 


Died, 1836. 

Mr. John G. Prinp'le, 


Dismissed on 


Mr. Edward Keckeley, 


Miss Ann Seavers Benoist, 

July, 1831. 

Miss Gardenia Gibbs. 

April, 1832. 

Total number of members, in 1832 

There were besides, in connection with the Church, about, 
coloured members. 



N. B. It was at first designed to have made a complete list of all who 
have been members of the Church, but from the state of the records this 
was found impossible. Should any names be now omitted, or misplaced, the 
fault must be attributed to the same cause. The list from 1832 is correct. 



Mr. James Ad^er, 

Mr. William Adger, 

Mrs. Margaret Hughes, 

Mrs. Eliza Houston, 

Mrs. Susan S. Wilson, 

Miss Carrie D. Montgomery, 

Miss Julia G. Gibbs, 

Mrs. Gracey Lanneau, 

Mr. William Miller, 

Miss Ursula S. Nell, 

Mrs. Ann Martin, 

Miss Mary C. Johnson, 

Mr. Andrew Lemassena, 

Miss Susan Vardell, 

Miss Susan Ruberry, 

Miss Sarah Anthony, 

Mr. Reeves Gibbs, 

Mrs. Sarah Gibbs, 

Mrs. Mary Gilchrist, 

Mr. Elias B. Hort, 

Mrs. Sarah White, 

Miss Sarah White, 

Mrs. Isabella Dupre, 

Mrs. Jane Rechon, 

Mr. William Harrall, 

Miss Martha Lowry, 

Mrs. Carberry, 

Mrs. Doggett, 

Miss Mary Ann Stillman, 

Miss Emma Vardell, 

Mr. George C. Logan, 

Mr. James Elder, 

Mrs. Elder, 

Mrs. Ann C. Logan, 

Mrs. Rose Logan, 

Mrs. Emily Holt, 

Mrs. Esther Dodd, 

Mr. George Patterson, 

Mr. Charles Frazer, 

Mrs. Frazer, 

Mr. E. R. Stokes, 

Mrs. Helen L. Stokes, 

Mrs. Catherine Gibbs, 

Miss Ann F. Robinson, 

now Mrs. Caldwell, 
Miss Ann Shrewsbury, 
Miss Sarah Jane Johnson, 

now Mrs. S. Robinson, 
Mr. William Johnston, 
Mr. William McElmoyle, 
Mr. John Vardell, 
Mr. Andrew F. Allen, 
Mrs. Ellenora Gibbs, 

When admitted. 

July, 1832. 

October, 1832. 
January, 1833. 

May, 1833. 

July, 1833. 
July, 1833. 
April, 1834. 
July, 1834. 

January, 1835. 

April, 1835. 
April, 1835. 


Dismissed on Certificate 

June, 1835. 

Dismissed on Certificate 
Dismissed on Certificate 
Dismissed on Certificate 

Dismissed on Certificate. 
Dismissed on Certificate. 

Dismissed on Certificate. 

Died, 1835. 

Dismissed on Certificate. 


Dismissed on Certificate. 
Dismissed on Certificate 

Died, 1837. 

Dismissed on Certificate 

Dismissed on Certificate. 

Died, 1835. 




When admitted. 


Mrs. Beulah Hughes, 

July, 1835. 

Dismissed on Certificate 

Miss Sarah R. Hughes, 


Dismissed on Certificate. 

Miss Adeline H. Hughes, 

now Mrs. Auld, 


Mr. William L. Hughes, 


Mr. William Yeadon, 


Mrs. Eliza Yeadon, 

July, 1835. 

Mrs. Susan Steedman, 


Miss Deborah Smith, 

now Mrs. Steedman, 


Miss Louisa Elford, 


Miss Anna Vardell, 

now Mrs. Harrall, 


Miss Ann Eliza Wotton, 


Miss Mary E. Dukes, 

now Mrs. Ragin, 


Miss Martha Anthonv. 


Miss Jane Dewees, 


Miss Rebecca Burke, 


Dismissed on Certificate. 

Miss Harriet Auld, 

now Mrs. Hughes, 


Miss Eliza Auld, 


Miss Mary Badger, 


Miss Henrietta Bize, 


Miss Catherine Johnson, 


Miss Mary Richards, 


Miss Caroline Crovat, 


Mrs. Elizabeth Venning, 


Mrs. Mompoey, 


Mr. Robert Tweed, 


Mr. William J. Berrie, 

July, 1835. 


Mr. Benjamin Gibbs, 


Mr. John Cartberry, 


Mr. Donald J. Auld, 


Mr. John McBride, 

October, 1835. 

Dismissed on Certificate. 

Mrs. Laura E. Whelden, 


Mrs. Tweed, 


Miss Victoria Gibbs, 


Miss Mary Bryan, 


Miss Josephine Mompoey, 


Miss Maria Shrewsbury, 


Mr. Robert Gibbs, 

January, 1836. 

Died, 1836. 

Mr. John McMaster, 


Mrs. McMaster, 


Miss Rebecca Giles, 


Miss Margaret Turner, 

now Mrs. Holmes, 


Miss Horton, 


Mr. Isaac Auld, 


Mr. Charles A. Stillman, 


Mr. Alfred Stillman, 


Miss Elizabeth Pringle, 


Died, 1836. 

Miss Agnes Easson, 

January, 1836, 

Mr. John Dewees, 


Mrs. Dewees, 


Mrs. Hannah Dewees, 


Died Nov., 1838. 

Mr. Francis Harrill, 


Mrs. Mary Ann Logan, 


Mr. Charles J. Sparks, 

October, 1836. 

Miss Hannah V. Lee, 

January, 1837. 

Mrs. Arms, 


Miss Eleanor Parsons, 





When admitted. 


Mr. John McMillan, 

April, 1837. 

Mrs. Mary McMillan, 


Mrs. Elias Jones, 

Died Nov., 18a8. 

Miss Sarah Arms, 


Mr. Abraham Wilson, 


Mrs. Susan Wilson, 


Mr. John Henderson, 


Mrs. Adams, 


Miss Jane O'Daniel, 


Mr. James M. Caldwell, 

July, 1837. 

Mrs. Rachael Ann Parker, 


Mr. James McElhenny, 

October, 1837. 

Mr. Robert L. Church, 


Mr. Alexander McKenzie, 


Mrs. Rosanna McKenzie, 


Mr. George Moffatt, 


Mrs. Moffatt, 


Mrs. tlavel Peachy. 

January, 1838. 

Mr. Frederick Wittpen, 


Mrs. Joanna Wittpen, 


Mrs. Ann W. Gibbs, 


Mrs. Jane Eliza Adger, 

Miss Hannah Raymond, 


Mr. James Muir, 


Miss Deborah Lee, 


Mrs. Emma L. Gildersleeve. 


Summary of the Preceding Lists of Members. 

Total number of members admitted since 1832 till January 1838 132 

Total number in 1832 134 

Total 266 

Of the 134 members in the Church in 1832, there have died 19 

There have been dismissed on Certificate, or otherwise 13 


Leaving of these at present in connection with the Church 102 

Of the 132 who have united with the Church since 1832 there have died. 5 
There have been dismissed on certificate or otherwise 18 

Leaving of these in connexion with the Church 109 

Total number of white members, now in the Church 211 

Of coloured members now living and connected with the Church, there 

are 89 

About 20 of these have been admitted since 1832. 

The total number of members, white and coloured, now in the Church, 

is, therefore 300 

Members who Have Become Ministers. 

Of the members of the church, four are now in the ministry : 

1. Rev. John B. Adger, ordained by the Charleston Union Presbytery in 
1834, and now a missionary under the A. B. C. F. M. in Smyrna. 

Mrs. Adger is also a member of this Church. 

2. Rev. D. McNeil Turner, licensed by the Charleston Union Presbytery 
in 1837, and now settled in Fayetteville, N. C. 

3. Rev. Donald Auld, licensed by the Charleston Union Presbytery in 
1837, and now settled in Christ's Church Parish. 

Mrs. Auld is also a member of this Church. 

4. Rev. James Adger, licensed by the Charleston Union Presbytery in 

Besides these, Mr. William J. Johnson and Mr. Charles A. Stillman, mem- 
bers of this Church, are now pursuing their studies for the ministry at the 
Oglethorpe Presbyterian College, near Milledgeville, Georgia. 




Rev. B. Gildersleeve. 


Charles S. Simonton. 

John Vardell, 

C. S. Simonton, 

D. W. Horrison, 
C. P. Frazer, 
Robert L. Church, 


Robert Tweed, 
VVm. P. Levy, 
John Pascoe, 
G. W. Patterson, 
John Dewees, 

Rev. B. Gildersleeve, Female Bible Class. 
C. J. Sparks, Assistant Teacher. 
Thomas R. Vardell, Male Bible Class. 


Mrs. Johnson, Female Superintendent. 
Mrs. Ann Caldwell, Assistant Ditto. 

Miss Margaret Bennett, 
Miss Hannah P. Raymond, 
Miss Susan Vardell, 
Miss Eliza Auld, 
Miss Gardenia Gibbes, 
Miss Julia Gibbes, 
Mrs. S. Robertson, 
Miss S. Benoist, 

Miss Philippa Burney, 

Miss Susan D. Adger, 

Miss Mary A. Stillman, 

Miss S. Anthony, 

Miss Susan Bell, 

Miss Ursulla Nell, 

Miss Susan Ruberry, Infant Class. 

James W. Stillman, Secretary, Librarian and Treasurer. 

There is, besides, a Sabbath School for coloured persons held after 
the morning service, and a service for coloured persons after the Church 
is dismissed in the afternoon, under the charge of the Session. 
8— Vol. V. 



Standing Notices, 







1. The Lord's Supper is celebrated in this Church, when it 
is not otherwise notified, on the second Sabbath in January, 
April, July and October. 

Persons desirous of uniting with the church, on profession 
of faith, are expected to meet the Session two weeks previous 
to the Communion ; those who wish to unite on certificate may 
present their certificates, through the Pastor, to the Session, at 
the same time. 

The lecture, preparatory to the Communion, is held in the 
Lecture Room, on the Friday evening previous to the Com- 
munion, unless otherwise announced. 

2. Persons desiring letters of dismission can obtain them by 
application to the Session, through the Pastor ; and they should 
be taken by all who remove for any length of time from the 
bounds of the congregation, and in like manner, by all coming 
within these bounds. They should also be at once presented, 
and never retained on hand longer than necessity absolutely 

It is deemed proper that children should be presented for 
baptism on the Sabbath morning previous to each communion 
occasion. A paper containing the name of the child and of the 
parents, and also the date of its birth, should be handed in to 
the minister previously. The ordinance is administered at the 
commencement of the church services — the child being kept at 
the door until called for by the minister. 

4. There is Lecture, in the Lecture Room, every Thursday 
evening — in summer at eight, and in winter at seven o'clock. 

5. The Maternal Association meets on the third Monday of 
every month, at 4 P. M. 

6. The Female Prayer Meetings are held weekly, on Monday 
and on Friday afternoons, at 4 o'clock. 

7. The Sabbath School is at present held every Sabbath 
morning, at the Church — in summer at 8 o'clock, and in winter 
at half-past 8 o'clock. 

The Sabbath School for coloured persons is held every Sab- 
bath, after morning service. 

8. The Sunday School Teachers' Meeting is held every week, 
on Tuesday evening, in the Lecture Room. 

9. The Female Education Society meets weekly — in winter on 
Thursday, at 10 A. M., in summer on Wednesday, at 4 P. M. 


Every female member of the church should be a member, 
and, as far as possible, an attendant upon this society, whose 
object is to assist in educating young men for the Gospel min- 

10. The Monthly Concert of Prayer is held on the evening 
of the first Monday in every month, in the Lecture Room, 
except when otherwise notified. 

11. The Juvenile Missionary Society meets every quarter, in 
November, February, May and August, on Saturday afternoon, 
in the Lecture Room. 

13. A collection is taken up every two months for some 
benevolent society, according to the Plan of Benevolence, 
which see. 

13. Persons wishing to hire pews may apply to the Treasurer, 
or to any member of the Standing Committee. 


At a meeting of the members of the church, held in the 
Lecture Room, on Monday Evening, Oct. 16th, 1837, the fol- 
lowing Resolution was adopted and ordered to be inserted here : 

Resolved, That in view of the importance of systematic 
charity ; to prevent simultaneous and irregular claims upon our 
benevolence; to enable all to anticipate the objects they will be 
expected to assist, and to give to them from principle and fore- 
thought ; — it is hereby recommended that a collection be taken 
up, in this church, every second month, for the following objects 
in such order as may seem best, viz : — 

Foreign Missions. 

Sabbath Schools. 

Bible and Tract Societies. 

Domestic Missions. 

Education of Young Men for the Ministry. 

City Mission. 

Theological Seminary. 

Port Society. 

It is underctood that no other public collection will be made 
in the church for spiritual purposes, without the approbation of 
the Session. The collections for the poor on every Communion 
occasion, and at the Monthly Concert are not, however, included 
in this restriction. 

To expedite such collections, and to prevent the unpleasant- 
ness of personal solicitation, it is further recommended that they 
be taken up at the door, or handed in privately to the Session. 



In 1837, a Committee was appointed to take into considera- 
tion the subject of Funerals, of which Mr. John Robinson was 
Chairman. The Committee reported the following Resolution, 
which was unanimously adopted : 

"Your Committee took into consideration the great incon- 
venience arising from the practice which prevails in this city, 
of detaining funerals for an hour or more beyond the time 
appointed. They therefore recommend to the corporation, the 
adoption of a rule, to the effect that, hereafter, at all funerals 
in the church-yard, it shall be imperative on the Sexton to move 
precisely at the hour named ; and that due publicity be given to 
said resolution, by announcement from the pulpit, and by the 
Sexton on every occasion when called on, by communicating 
the same to the parties concerned." 

The following Circular, which has been, to some extent, cir- 
culated among the churches of this city, may be also profitably 
inserted here : 


The undersigned respectfully solicit the attention of the Con- 
gregations generally, of which they are the stated Ministers, 
in this City, to the following suggestions, relative to some cus- 
toms still extensively observed at Funerals, and which they, in 
common with many individuals with whom they have conversed 
on the subject, are desirous to see discontinued. 

The customs to which we allude are, that of giving hat-bands 
of crape, to be worn by friends and acquaintances generally, at 
Funerals ; that also of giving silk scarfs and gloves to ministers 
and pall-bearers ; and that of having waiting women to precede 
the corpse to the Church or grave. All these particulars of 
ceremony are attended with useless expense ; they are unmean- 
ing as to the character or intent of the funeral solemnity; and 
they often occasion a delay of the procession from the house to 
the grave, which is a reasonable subject of complaint. 

The use, as it now obtains among us, of Bands of Crape at 
Funerals, is of a comparatively recent existence. It is a mis- 
take into which individuals and families have been led inad- 
vertently. As existing in other places, from which it has been 
introduced within not many years among us, it is the putting 
of Bands of Crape upon the hats of those, who, as relatives, 
or by invitation, attend a funeral as mourners. Through a 
misconception of propriety, or perhaps, through some design 
not understood, and which those whom the occasion chiefly 
interests, could not be expected to notice or regard, it has so 
obtained among us, as to invest with this badge of mourning 
not those only who are in attendance as mourners, but all or 


any others, who may happen to be present. It is thus as 
unmeaning and absurd, as it is wasteful and inconvenient. We 
would advise the total discontinuance of the custom. If a 
reason for the indiscriminate extension of it, to which we have 
adverted, is, that offence coming from designed discrimination, 
can only thus be avoided, we respectfully suggest, that this can 
be completely obviated by doing it entirely away. 

The giving of Scarfs and Gloves to the attending Clergy and 
to Pall-bearers, is objectionable, as occasioning not unfre- 
quently, a very inconvenient detention ; the undertaker having 
sometimes, not prepared these articles until the hour appointed 
for the funeral has passed. This custom is also objectionable, 
as being attended like that of giving bands of crape, with an 
expense, which, however little worthy of consideration in the 
case of many, is, through a mistaken sense of propriety, or a 
less worthy motive, incurred by many others, at an incon- 
venience to which it is for the best of reasons, improper that 
they should be subjected; viz. because they cannot afford it. 
The custom is, we are aware, even among us, an old one, and 
transmitted from the immemorial example of funerals in Eng- 
land. But if no other reason can be assigned for it than this, 
we think there is no sufficient reason for its continuance. 

The other particular to which we have referred, is that of 
having hired Waiting Women to precede the hearse in the pro- 
cession to the grave. This is a circumstance strangely per- 
mitted to remain, of the long and happily exploded folly, to say 
no more of it, of making the funeral a sort of banqueting scene, 
where cakes, coffee and wine, were served around among the 
company. The waiting women proper for the funeral cere- 
monial so characterized have, through an oversight of interested 
design on the part of some, having to do with funeral prepara- 
tions, been permitted to be had as a necessary accompaniment 
of the occasion. The absurdity of this custom is too apparent 
not to strike every one. It is known by us, to provoke the 
wondering inquiry, and even the derision, of strangers ; and as 
there is no conceivable reason in its favor, either of appearance 
or convenience, we beg leave to recommend the total discontinu- 
ance of it. 

We are not insensible to the consideration that the prejudices 
of a community in favor of long standing customs, of however 
little import, are rather to be respected than unnecessarily 
encroached upon. But while we know by experience and infor- 
mation that the reasons which we allege against these customs 
do exist, we know no reason, worth the name, for their con- 
tinuance. If, indeed, the moral impression of the funeral scene 
would be deepened by their observance, or the lesson it is suited 
to convey, rendered more available, we should not hesitate to 


acknowledge that there existed a reason in their favor, stronger 
than any we can adduce against them. But we are persuaded, 
on the other hand, that the moral influence of the funeral 
solemnity, is impeded, rather than promoted, by the bustle of 
unmeaning ceremony, and that the best preparation of the feel- 
ings for the trial to which they are subject, in depositing the 
remains of a friend or fellow mortal in their kindred earth, 
consists in a simplicity which shall not unnecessarily divert or 
distract the thoughts, and a stillness, which no needless formali- 
ties are permitted to disturb. 

Under these impressions, we submit the foregoing sugges- 
tions to your considerations, and earnestly hope they will be 

N. B. This circular (which is here somewhat abbreviated), 
was signed by the following clergymen of the city, viz: N. 
BowEN, C. E. Gadsden, C. Hanckel, Wm. H. Barnwell, W. 
W. Spear, A. Kaufman, Paul Trapier, W. Capers, James 
Sewell, B. English, R. Post, Wm. C. Dana, John ForrEvST, 
Thomas Smyth, B. Manly, S. Oilman. 



The Presbyterian Church is not peculiar in her doctrines. 
They hold, with Orthodox Congregationalists and Evangelical 
Episcopalians, and Whitfield Methodists, and Baptists gener- 
ally, what are denominated moderate Calvinistic views — the 
views common to Calvin with Augustine and the church of 
Christ in its purest ages, and which they believe to be the true 
doctrines of the Bible. 

Presbyterians are peculiar only in their form of church gov- 

1. The primary principle of Presbyterianism is the parity 
of her ministers. She recognizes no distinction of orders in 
the ministry. Ministers of Christ are all Presbyters, and all 
Elders, and all Bishops, as they are indiscriminately called in 
the word of God. 

2. The second general principle which distinguishes Presby- 
terians is what may be called the representative principle. This 
principle in all modern governments, as even Chateaubriand 
testifies, may be traced to the church, and eminently to the 
Presbyterian church. 

On this principle the government and discipline of the church, 
in each congregation, is committed to a bench of elders, con- 
sisting of eight, ten or twelve of the most pious, enlightened, 
wise, prudent and influential members of the church, chosen by 
their fellow members to this office; who with the pastor con- 
stitute the Session. 

3. Another general principle, which distinguishes Presbyteri- 
anism, is its Catholicism. It considers all its separate congrega- 
tions as bound together, and thus constituting one general or 
universal church. They are governed on the representative 
principle by a series of spiritual courts, ascending from the 
Session to the Presbytery, composed of the ministers and an 
equal number of elders within a certain neighboring district — 
from the Presbytery to the Synod, composed of a minister and 
delegated elder from each church within a still wider territory, 
such as a state — and from the Synod to the General Assembly, 
composed of a delegated minister and elder from every Presby- 
tery within the bounds of the church. 

4. A fourth general principle of Presbyterianism is the right 
of the people to elect their own ministers, and of the members. 


constituting^ the Presbytery, to examine the qualifications of 
ministers thus elected, and to ordain them to office. 

The peculiar advantages of this system of church govern- 
ment are the following : — 

We believe it to be the nearest to the scriptural model, and 
therefore the best. 

"It is better adapted than any other to repress clerical ambi- 
tion ; to prevent clerical encroachments and tyranny ; to guard 
against the reign of popular effervescence and violence; to 
secure the calm, enlightened and edifying exercise of discipline ; 
to maintain the religious rights of the people against all sinister 
influence; and to afford relief in all cases in which a single 
church, or an inferior judiciary, may have passed an improper 
sentence, from either mistake, prejudice or passion. It estab- 
lishes, in all our ecclesiastical borders, that strict republican 
representative system of government, which has been "ever 
found to lie at the foundation of all practical freedom, both 
political and religious," and which, under God, affords the best 
pledge of justice and stability in the administration. It affords 
that inspection over the lives and conversation of church-mem- 
bers, which is ever indispensably needed, and which is at once 
vigilant, parental and judicious; and when faithfully carried 
into execution, is better fitted than any other to bring the whole 
church to act together, and to unite all hearts and hands in 
christian beneficence. And finally it is better fitted than any 
other to maintain a wise, impartial and faithful inspection over 
the lives and ministrations of the body of the clergy "* 


(as drawn up by an association o^ elders in 

The office of Ruling Elders is of Divine appointment, and 
involves responsibilities, which, if faithfully discharged in the 
spirit of prayer and humble dependence on God, will greatly 
promote the spiritual interests of the Church, over which, with 
the Pastor, the Holy Ghost has appointed them. 

2d. It is the duty of the Elders, in concert with the Pastor 
of the Church to which they belong, to visit the families, and 
converse freely with them on the subject of religion; inquire 
into their spiritual state and condition ; guard the young against 

*See Dr. Miller's valuable treatise on "Presbyterianism, the truly Primi- 
tive and apostolic constitution of the Church of Christ," No. 1, of the series 
of Presbyterian tracts, which every member of the Church should possess 
and read. They are to be had at the Depository. 


the danger of early transgressions, show them that the fear of 
the Lord is the beginning of wisdom ; teach them an habitual 
reverence for the Sabbath, a love for the ordinances of God's 
house, with a strict adherence to parental authority, as the sure 
paths to receive the blessing of God, and train them up for 
usefulness in the Church and the world ; to pray with the fami- 
lies ; lead inquiring souls to the Saviour ; warn the careless and 
secure ; reprove, in the spirit of meekness, the inconsistent, 
backsliding professor of religion, and to bring such under the 
discipline of the Church, when private counsel and exhortations 
fail ; to urge strongly that family worship be maintained, and 
that heads of families train up their children in the nurture 
and admonition of the Lord. 

3d. The poor of the congregation should be carefully attended 
to, in the supply of their temporal and spiritual wants. The 
Saviour of men sympathized greatly, and associated much with 
them while on earth, and it well becomes the Elders to imitate 
the example of their ascended Master. 

4th. The prayer meetings of the Church should claim the 
peculiar care and regard of the Elders. In that congregation 
where they are frequent and well attended, the blessing of God 
is seen abundantly to rest ; on the contrary, where they are 
neglected, a cold Laodicean spirit is found to exist ; how neces- 
sary then that the officers of the Church cultivate and encourage 
a spirit of fervent prayer in the Church ! 

5th. Bible classes and Sabbath schools claim the attention and 
fostering care of the Elders ; frequent communications with the 
teachers, and examination of the scholars, with prayer and 
affectionate advice, will have a happy effect in preserving those 
nui series from which it is hoped the Church will receive a large 

6th. Admissions to Church membership require peculiar 
fidelity and care in the Session ; a duty on the faithful perform- 
ance of which depends the spirituality and piety of the Church. 
None should be admitted who do not give evidence of a work 
of grace ; all others should be tenderly admonished to wait till 
by clearer evidence and more experience, obtained by humble 
prayer to God, they may be admitted to sit down at their Lord 
and Saviour's table with their brethren. 

7th. It is the duty of the Session to grant all certificates of 

8th. When a Church is vacant, or in the absence of the Pastor, 
it is the duty of the Elders to provide preaching for the congre- 
gation ; but in case of failure, they should conduct the exercises 
themselves, by singing, prayer, reading portions of Scripture, 
and a well selected sermon or exhortation. 

9th. It is the privilege of Elders to attend inquiry meetings. 


10th. The painful duty of Church discipHne must be faithfully 
maintained. The Session should ever remember that the glory 
of God, and the peace, order, and harmony of that spiritual 
Zion committed to their care, demands a constant watchfulness 
over all her interests ; but when unhappily, cases occur, requir- 
ing the exercise of this duty, it should be performed with great 
tenderness, and all decisions made according to truth and 

11th. Attendance on all our Judicatories is most important. 
All the interests of the Church are there discussed and decided ; 
every Elder to whose time of service it appertains, should attend 
to this duty, that by his counsel, and his vote, he may contribute 
to her present and future welfare, prosperity, and peace. 

12th. To the Session belongs the oversight of the members 
of each Church, and the management of its spiritual affairs. 

13th. It is the duty of the Eldership, in all things consistent 
with the word of God, our excellent Confession of Faith, 
Church Government and Discipline, to promote a spirit of love, 
harmony, and piety, throughout the congregations, to be 
co-workers with God in the conversion of sinners to his dear 
Son, and in sending the Gospel to the ends of the earth. 

If a feeble outline be here given of the duties of Ruling Elders 
in the Presbyterian Church, what manner of persons ought they 
to be? It must be evident to every serious and reflecting mind, 
that the Church, in electing to this office, should carefully select 
men full of the Holy Ghost and of faith, who will go forth to 
the discharge of their duties in a firm determination, with the 
blessing of God, to perform them ; that thus by humble, fervent 
prayer at the throne of grace, they may strive to imitate the 
example of their ascended Saviour, whose meat and whose 
drink it was to do the will of his Heavenly Father, and who, 
while on earth, continually went about doing good. 

I. ge;neral duties. 

They should seek to acquire clear and enlarged views of 
divine truth. 

They should be progressive, and not stationary, in their 
religious course. 

They should maintain consistency of conduct as professing 

They should excel in the manifestation of the christian 

They should be very eminent for a right discharge of all their 
social duties. 


They should also faithfully discharge their duties in reference 
to the world. 

They should be very exemplary in their obedience to the civil 


Submission to his just, and scriptural authority. 

Distinguishing honour, esteem, and love, as being over them 
in the Lord. 

A constant attendance upon all his ministrations. 

Earnest prayer for him. 

Encouragement of others to attend upon his ministry. 

Zealous co-operation in all schemes of usefulness proposed by 
him, whether for the benefit of his own society in particular, 
or the welfare of the church and the world at large. 

A most delicate and tender regard for his reputation. 

Liberal support.* 

Adhering to him, and abiding by him in ^11 trials and persecu- 
tions endured for the Gospel's sake. 


A peculiar complacency in their fellow members, viewed as 
the objects of divine love. 

Bearing one another's burdens, and so fulfilling the law of 
Christ. Gal. vi. 3. 

Visiting their brethren in affliction. 

Praying for one another. James, v. 16. 

Administering pecuniary relief to those who need it. 

Forbearing with one another in love. Eph. vi. 2. 

Watching over one another. 


Submission, one to another in humility. 1 Peter, v. o. 

Being cautious not to give offence. 

Being backward in receiving offence. f 

Watching against and repressing a tattling disposition. 



They are bound to take a deep interest in its concerns, and 
to seek its prosperity by all lawful means. 

*1 Tim. V. 17, 18 ; Gal. vi. 6, 7 ; 1 Cor. ix. 7, 9,— xi. 13, 14 ; Matt. x. 9, 10. 
f For the full consideration of this important subject, see James' Church 
Member's Guide, chapter vi., from which these hints are chiefly taken. 


They are bound to attend all the meetings of the church, at 
least, so far as their circumstances will allow. 

They should most conscientiously devote their gifts, graces, 
and abilities to the service of the church, in an orderly and 
modest way, neither obtruding their assistance when it is not 
required, nor withholding it when it is solicited. 

They should most cordially submit to the discipline of the 


We should respect their religious opinions and practices. 

We should avoid religious bigotry and prejudice. 

We should abstain from all officious controversy, and under- 
hand proselytism. 

There should be a spirit of mutual affection between the 
members of different churches. 

All comparisons between the talents of the ministers and the 
respectability of their churches should be carefully abstained 

Church members should never resent by coldness, and dis- 
tance of behaviour, the conduct of those who leave their society 
to join another in the same town. 


The Church appoints the exercises of the Sabbath and of the 
w-eek by the authority of Christ — with the concurrence of its 
members — and wath a supreme regard to the glory of God, the 
good of the church, and the spiritual interests of its members. 
Members, therefore, are under solemn obligations to God, as 
well as to the church, and to themselves, to attend upon them 
all, regularly, punctually, spiritually and devotedly. 

1. Whatever is authorized by the church, not inconsistent 
with the authority of Christ, or contrary to his injunctions, 
Christ regards as authorized by himself.* 

2. Whatever is necessary to carry into full efficiency the 
injunctions of Christ, and to secure the perfect holiness of his 
church and people is implied in these injunctions. 

3. All the exercises of this church have been approved by 
God as useful to it, and promotive of true piety. 

4. Every member of this church as publicly pledged himself 
before the church, before God, and holy angels, that he will 

*See Matthew, xvi. 19. 


obey the church in all its regulations, and unite in promoting 
all its interests, — so long as he remains a member of the same. 
5. To stay away on Sabbath afternoon — or on Thursday 
evening — or from the Preparatory Lecture — or from the 
Monthly Concert — to neglect the Sabbath School and its meet- 
ings — or the prayer meeting, is not therefore an indifferent 
matter ; it is a positive sin by whatever member of this church 
it is done — for 

1. Even were these things indifferent in themselves or to 
others, they are not so to you ; you have engaged to observe 

2. You thus violate your own solemn promise. 

3. You thus throw a slight upon these ordinances, and upon 
the church ordaining them. 

4. You detract from their efficiency. 

5. You encourage others to neglect them. 

6. You prevent the growth of piety, and of the church. 

7. You injure yourself by depriving yourself of means found, 
by all who diligently use them, to be helpful to piety. 

8. You expose yourself to temptation. 

9. You habituate yourself to neglect duty. i 

10. You make your feelings, and not duty, the standard of 
your conduct. 

11. You rob God. 

12. You dishonor Christ — and 

13. You detract from the power of your example. 

But you will say. Is there no exception to this rule? We 
answer assuredly there is. You may be providentially hindered. 
You may be sick. You may be so infirm as not to be, prudently, 
out at night. Or your family may demand your immediate 
care. But, then, Professor of religion, we would most solemnly 
remind you that God will measure all such excuses by the 
weight they have when you are invited to attend an evening 
party, or to visit some place of amusement, or to wait upon a 
friend, or to gratify yourself, or to attend some public or politi- 
cal meeting. If you have no good reason which keeps you 
away from any one or all of these, then neither have you any 
which should keep you away from religious meetings. God 
will judge you by your own acknowledged course of life, and 
by your own conduct will he condemn you as faithless, and cold 
to him, to his cause, and to religion, while thus compliant to 
the world. 



Our Saviour, in language the most emphatic, has enjoined 
upon us this duty : "Enter into thy closet, and when thou hast 
shut the door, pray to thy Father which is in secret, and thy 
Father which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly." How 
distinct is this command ! And yet it is to be feared that by 
many professed Christians it is more neglected than almost any 

The example of pious men in all ages of the world shows 
the IMPORTANCE of secret prayer. Witness Daniel, three times 
a day retiring to his chamber for prayer. Read the biography 
of any eminent Christian, and you will find that it is in secret 
prayer that his strength has been obtained. O ! there is a host 
of worthies who rise at once in attestation of its infinite import- 
ance. And another host may be seen of languid, spiritless, 
desponding professors, whose lives are passing unprofitably and 
wretchedly away, because they do not strengthen their faith, 
and animate their zeal, by the devotions of the closet. Here 
lies the cause of nineteen-twentieths of the doubts and fears of 
the Christian ; of that paralysis of Christian feeling which 
makes so many professors an incumbrance and a burden to the 

There are peculiar sins to be confessed, which it is not proper 
to confess in public or in social prayer. The Christian needs 
to go to God, in all the confidence of a private interview, and 
there to unfold the inmost secrets of his heart. He has peculiar 
temptations from which he needs to be guarded ; peculiar trials 
under which he needs support ; and he must in private go to 
God, that he may seek relief for these private wants. 

2. The MANNER in which this duty should be performed. 
When our Saviour says, "enter into thy closet, and when thou 
hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father," he does most undeni- 
ably mean that we should seek actual retirement ; that we should 
go to some place alone, where we may pray to our Father in 
secret. It does not do to say that we can pray any where ; that 
we can, in the bustle of business, withdraw our minds and have 
sufficient communion with God. The Saviour's command is 
positive, that we must seek retirement, and there in secret make 
known our requests to God. Surely, if Christ found it neces- 
sary to withdraw from the crowd, and even from every friend, 
that his devotions might not be disturbed by passing scenes, it 
is the most egregious folly for the frail disciple of Jesus to 
pretend that secrecy and retirement are not essential in his acts 
of devotion. Yes, follower of Jesus ! you must actually go to 
the place of retirement. It may be to the chamber; it may be 
to the grove ; but it must be to some place where, alone and 
uninterrupted, you may commune with God. 
9— Vol. v.' 


There should be stated times for secret prayer. As far as 
possible, the habit should be formed of going at particular 
hours of the day into the presence of God. Unless the Christian 
has resolution to form a plan, and to abide by that plan, he 
cannot make advances in the Christian life; he cannot enjoy 
religion. If you say, "I will daily enjoy the privilege of secret 
prayer," and yet do not set apart some particular portion of 
the day, which you will appropriate to his duty, you will find 
that your resolutions are made, but to be broken. The evening 
twilight appears to have been the favorite hour with our 
Saviour for this purpose. Daniel selected the morning, the 
noon, and the evening, as his seasons of private devotion. 

The very design of secret prayer is to enable the Christian 
to approach God with the least possible restraint. We should 
at such times, with great particularity acknowledge sin. Has 
any temptation excited irritated feeling? In your closet con- 
fess that individual sin to God. Have you neglected duty ? In 
penitential prayer allude to the time and circumstances, that 
your heart may not be sheltered by the vagueness of mere gene- 
ral confession. In your closet review your actions, and tell 
your Maker distinctly what you mean, when you confess you 
are a sinner. In the solitude and silence of the soul's retire- 
ment with God, we may become acquainted with ourselves. 
This is the way to make confession of sin which is acceptable 
to God. 

We should also in secret prayer ask for particular blessings. 
You are a parent. Your son is at a distant school, surrounded 
by new and trying temptations. In retirement plead for him 
by name. State distinctly the temptations to which he is 
exposed. Thus you may pray with a degree of fervor and 
distinctness which would be impossible, and, improper even, in 
the more public circle of social prayer. When our Saviour 
united with his disciples in prayer, his petitions were general : 
"Thy kingdom come," "give us day by day our daily bread," 
"forgive us our debts," "lead us not into temptation." But 
when he retired to the garden, in solitude, his prayer was, "O 
my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." Here 
he could allude to his own individual wants. He could as a 
child unveil all his secret sorrows to a Father's view. Imitate 
your Saviour, and daily in secret prayer remember your friends, 
calling them by name. Remember your own particular tempta- 
tions, and your own particular sins, and thus will your Father 
who heareth in secret, himself reward you openly. 

3. Consider the advantages of secret prayer. There is no 
exercise of the Christian which has so powerful an influence 
in promoting spirituality of mind. This secret communion with 
God seems to introduce us into his immediate presence. If we 


go to the closet with the distinct confession of sin, and asking 
particular blessings, we can hardly fail of receiving an influence 
into our own hearts which will be abiding. There never has 
been a case of one who perseveringly frequented his closet, and 
there found rest to his soul, who was not a spiritual man and a 
growing Christian. And the Christian who does not pray in 
secret must be a languid and a heartless disciple. 

There is no preservative from sin so potent as this.. An hour 
of temptation may overcome the Christian. He may be left to 
the commission of sins, the thought of which now makes him 
shudder. Temptations may be thrown in his way, and he has 
no safety^ — he has no protection, but in prayer. He who comes 
from the audience chamber of God, from intimate communion 
with his Maker, has faith so bright and strong that temptation 
will in vain assail him. Standing in the verge of heaven, 
breathing the very atmosphere of that pure world, he will be 
enabled to say, "Get thee behind me, Satan." The path to the 
commission of sin lies invariably through the neglect of secret 

There is no exercise which like secret prayer can purify and 
traiiquilli:;e the mind. It is this which gives that "closer walk 
with God," which ensures "a calm and heavenly frame." This 
is the mount upon which tlie Christian may stand above earth's 
vapors and smile at earth's storms. When Jesus went to the 
garden, as the hour of death approached, he was in an agony 
of feeling. But how soon was he soothed by prayer. He came 
from the retirement of that garden, calm and composed, to meet 
his enemies, and not a nerve trembled, and apparently not one 
fibre of feeling was troubled. Thus, Christian, may you obtain 
a composure of mind, and a calm, steady enjoyment, which no 
opposition or trials can ruffle. And how happy is that heart, 
thus fixed on God ; thus steadfast in a joyful serenity which 
nothing can disturb. Look into the heart of ordinary Christ- 
ians ! How full of worldly cares ! How often depressed with 
anxiety ! How will trifling obstacles disturb and irritate ! The 
remedy for all this is secret prayer. When this is kept up, the 
spirit is alike independent of great calamities and of petty vexa- 
tions. Christian Professor ! as you would not disobey the posi- 
tive command of Christ — as you would not impoverish your 
own soul — as you would not bring upon your hearts the cold- 
ness and lethargy of spiritual death — as you would not brnig 
dishonor on your christian character — see to it that you let no 
day pass without secret prayer.* 

*See Tracts of A. T. S., vol 10th. 

1B2 APi'JiNDlX. 


God should be worshipped by the Christian in his family 
as well as in his closet and in the church. This surely is a 
proposition which the Christian's heart instinctively receives as 

1. God is worshipped when we reverentially peruse his word. 
The reading of a portion of the Bible is therefore to be a part 
of family worship. Let it be so much as communicates impor- 
tant instruction, and not so much as to produce weariness. 

2. God is worshipped by singing praises unto his name and 
for this purpose has he inspired men to compose for us psalms 
and hymns and spiritual songs, and gifted others in these latter 
days to fill our mouths with songs of deliverance. "It is a good 
thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto 
thy name, O, Most High — to show forth thy loving kindness 
in the morning, and thy faithfullness every night — upon an 
instrument of ten strings, upon the psaltery, and upon the harp, 
with a solemn sound." Praise is therefore a necessary part 
of family worship. Every Christian should be able to sing 
praise unto God. Every Christian parent is under obligation to 
have his children taught to sing as well as to pray and read. 
The present inability of Christians to lead their families in 
praise is as sinful as their pretended inability to lead them in 
prayer. "Search the scriptures whether these things are so." 

3. God is worshipped when we pray unto him. For this 
shall every man who is godly pray unto God in his family. 
That is not a godly family nor conducted by a godly head 
where family prayer is not regularly maintained. Is God thus 
to be worshipped in every family? And does the curse of God 
rest upon that family where such worship is neglected? We 
must answer, yes. 

1. Because God instituted families, with many special advan- 
tages and opportunities, for his solemn worship. God will 
therefore bring all heads of families to account. 

2. Family worship is inculcated by our own natural reason, 
and sense of gratitude and propriety, and has been observed, 
in some form, even by heathens themselves. If we neglect it, 
therefore, our consciences will accuse us, and our own hearts 
will condemn us. 

3. Families are under God's care, and live under his watch- 
ful eye, and are therefore bound to seek his protection and 

4. Christian families are sanctified and set apart to God 
The head of it is, by his own profession, the Lord's. The 
children are, by baptism, the Lord's. They should therefore 

tSee these points fully considered in Baxter's Christian Directory. 
Works, vol. iv. 


be a living sacrifice unto God, holy, acceptable, which is their 
reasonable service. They may not live as the heathen do. 

5. Parents are bound to teach their children their duty to 
God, by precept and example. See Deut. xi. 18-31 : Gen. xviii. 
18, 19 : 2 Tim. iii. 15. : Eph. vi. 4. : Prov. i. 8 : Prov. xxii. 6. : 
Eph. V. 25.-26. : I Tim. iii. 4-12. 

6. God requires from families solemn prayer and praise. See 
1 Tim. ii. 8. Col. iii. 15-17.: Eph. vi. 18.: Acts, xii. 12. 

7. Family worship is a duty ordinarily crowned with special 
and divine blessings. 

8. It has been observed by patriarchs, prophets and saints 
of God in all ages. Witness Abra^ham, Job, Daniel, David. 
Joshua, xxiv. 15., Cornelius, Acts, vi. 10. : v. 2 : xxiv. 32. 1 
Tim iii. 4. : v. 12. Esther, iv. 16. 

9. Families sin together, and should therefore confess and 
repent of their sins, each family apart. 

10. Families enjoy together the mercies of a kind providence, 
and should therefore acknowledge them as such. 

11. Families are only kept together by the power of that God 
who placed them in families ; they should therefore seek 
together the continuance of the divine mercy. 

12. Families wish to be together in heaven, they should there- 
fore serve God together on earth. 

13. If prayer and praise, and reading of the word of God 
are profitable and necessary to each alone, they are much more 
profitable, and therefore more necessary when properly per- 
formed by a united family. 

14. And not to enlarge, let the head of every family in this 
church, whether a professor or not, remember that the wrath 
of God is distinctly pronounced against every family wherein 
he is not worshipped. "Pour out thy i^ury on TH]e; heathen 


ON THY NAME." This might be rendered God wile pour out 


Such families are held to be as criminal in the sight of God 
as Idolaters ! He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. 

15. To the members of this church, I may in addition say 
that they have pledged themselves to maintain the worship of 
God in their closets, and in their families. ( See Form of Cove- 
nant in Spiritual Rules.) 

16. Our church considers the observation of family worship 
a necessary mark of christian character and faithfulness. On 
this point let me refer to the resolutions of the Synod of South 
Carolina and Georgia in 1837.* 

*These will be found in the "Minutes of Synod," and shew clearly the 
absolute necessity of this duty, in the members of our church. 

184 appe;ndix. 


Christians should govern their famiHes. That father will be 
involved temporally, and for ever, in the curse of Eli, who does 
not govern and maintain authority over his children. Christians 
should govern their families in a holy manner, and upon holy 
principles, and in a holy spirit. 

1. The holy government of the family is a considerable part 
of God's holy government of the world ; and when it is neglected 
the Devil governs in his stead. 

2. To leave a family ungoverned and ungodly, is a powerful 
means to secure the damnation of all its members. 

3. A holy and well governed family, tendeth not only to the 
safety of the members, but also to the ease and pleasure of their 

4. A holy and v^-ell governed family tends to make a holy 
posterity, and to propagate the fear of God from generation 
to generation. 

5. A holy and well governed family is the preparation for a 
holy and well governed church. 

6. Well governed families help to make a happy state and 
commonwealth, because they tend to make good men. 

7. If the governors of families did faithfully perform their 
duties, it would be a great assistance to the Pastor ; it would 
very much supply his deficiencies, and that of his elders ; and 
preserve and propagate religion in times of great coldness and 

8. The neglect of this duty is less excusable than any other, 
for parents have every possible advantage for it put into their 

9. Well governed families are honorable and exemplary to 

10. Holy and well governed families are blessed with the 
special presence and favour of God. 


1. Let your family understand that your authority is from 
God, and that in obeying you, they obey him. 

2. Your authority will be proportioned to your knowledge, 
holiness, and unblameableness of life. 

3. Show not your weakness by passion, or imprudent words 
or deeds ; by f retfulness or murmuring impatience ; either 
towards children or servants. 

4. Lose not your authority by neglecting to urge it. 

5. Strive to obtain prudence and skill in governing. 
Study the Bible much. 

Study the different tempers you have to deal with. 
Adapt your punishment to the character of the offence. 


Be a good husband to your wife, and a good father to your 
children, and a good master to your servants, and let all things 
be done in love. 

To govern others, you must learn to govern yourself. 

6. To govern your family in a holy manner, you must be 
holy yourself. 

Subject your own soul to God. Be sure you lay up your 
treasure in heaven. Maintain God's authority in your family 
more carefully than your own. Let spiritual love to your 
family predominate, and let your care be greatest for the saving 
of their souls, and your compassion greatest for their spiritual 

7. It is of great importance that a^ou should arrange your 
business and your family, so that there will be system and regu- 
larity. No family was ever governed in a holy manner which 
was not governed in an orderly manner.* 


If a well instructed physiologist were to lose his way in the 
pathless tracts of the earth, he would, nevertheless, be able to 
divine the country through which he was wandering, by atten- 
tively considering the productions of the soil, and the appear- 
ance of animal life surrounding him. So it is with the land 
of Emanuel. The delightful fruit found there, and no where 
else, is Love, Christian love, love in Christ, the divine Agape of 
the word of God, the fruit of the Spirit, the evidence of the 
twice-born and redeemed people. 

See zchat is said, and Jwzu much, concerning this disposition 
in the word of God. Scarcely any duty is enjoined with such 
great frequency, and in so great a variety of forms. It is the 
peculiar law of Christ's kingdom. "This is my commandment, 
that ye love one another, as I have loved you." (John, xv. 
12.) It is the identifying mark of Christ's disciples, the sign 
of their caste, the necessary and certain token of their disciple- 
ship. "By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if 
ye have love one to another." (John, xiii. 35.) It is the fruit 
and evidence of our regeneration. (1 Peter, i. 22, 23.) "We 
know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love 
the brethren." (1 John, iii. 14.) It is the mark of spiritual 
prosperity in a church. (Eph. i. 15.) It is the ground of 
apostolic eulogium in individual character. "I thank God, 
making mention of thee always in my prayers, hearing of thy 
love and faith, which thou hast toward the Lord Jesus and all 
the saints." (Phil, v.) It is the subject of frequent and 

*See Baxter's Christian Directory. Works, vol. i. 


emphatic apostolic admonition. "Bear ye one another's bur- 
dens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." (Gal. vi. 2.) Nearly 
the whole of the three epistles of John were written to enforce 
this duty. It is dignified with the appellation of the New 
Commandment. New in its kind, its model, its strength, its 
motives; "as I have loved you." Moses enjoined us, to love 
our neighbour as ourselves ; Christ has commanded us to love 
our neighbour in one respect, more than ourselves ; for we are, 
if need be, "to lay down our lives for our brethren." (1 John 
iii. 16.) This love is made the test of character at the judg- 
ment day; the want of it the ground of condemnation to the 
wicked, and the possession of it the ground of justification and 
approbation to the righteous. "In as much as ye did it not to 
me." (Matt, xxv.) Let any man read and study all these 
passages, and mark the vast importance which is attached to 
brotherly love, and then let him look round upon the church of 
Christ, and say if it is not yet lamentably deficient in this duty. 
It may not be amiss, however, to put Christians in rememb- 
rance of what they owe to their brethren ; to those especially, 
with whom they are associated in the bonds of immediate inter- 
course and fellowship. They should avoid all occasions of 
offence; repress every word, look or action, that is in the 
remotest degree calculated to give pain; and consider their 
brother's peace of mind as sacred as their own. They should 
be ever willing, ready, and even forward to receive the most 
sincere and tender forgiveness. To be implacable is to be like 
the devil ; to be forgiving is to be like him who prayed for his 
enemies, and who was no sooner taken down from the cross, 
than in a manner, he seemed to be contriving to save them^ that 
nailed him to it. But what is this to the consideration how 
much he has forgiven iisf To forgive a brother his offences 
ought to be the easiest and most delightful work which a 
Christian has to perform, considering what an example he has 
to copy from, and what a motive he professes to feel. It is 
beautifully said, "As the little children of one family, who often 
in the course of the day look angrily and feel soured towards 
one another, yet say 'good night' with an affectionate kiss, and 
in the morning meet again in love, so should it be the case of 
the dear children of God, to love one another with a pure heart 
fervently, and from the heart to forgive every one his brother 
their trespasses." Another operation of brotherly love is for- 
bearance with each other's differences of opinion, infirmities of 
temper, and weakness of faith. Allied to this is a disposition 
to avoid all rash judgments. Love is not censorious ; but is 
inclined to think well of its object; to diminish, rather than 
magnify its faults; and to conceal rather than publish them. 
Brotherly love will induce a person to speak the language of 


adiitoiiitioii, and to administer reproof; but in a manner so 
gentle, so tender and so humble, that the object of it, unless he 
be more of a brute than a Christian or a man, in his temper, 
shall feel that a kindness is done to him for which there is a 
demand upon his gratitude and affection. A tender sympathy 
which leads us to bear one another's burdens of care and 
sorrow, is essential to this love. A sympathy which not with 
impertinent curiosity, but with genuine pity, inquires into the 
cause of another's grief, to relieve it ; a sympathy which invites 
the confidence of the mourner, and draws to its own bosom 
from his oppressed heart, the secret of the cloud that hangs 
upon his brow. "Oh ! there is something that is wanting in the 
church here," says the same writer, whose expression I have 
already quoted, "something which shall so bind us together, 
that when one member suffers, all the members shall suffer 
with it ; when any are in bonds, shall be bound with them ; 
something which shall bring us into a dearer union, and wake 
up within us a more pure, refined, pervading sympathy, which 
shall be touched with the feeling of another's infirmities, and 
vibrate to the chord of wo, which is strong in a brother's heart." 
Love will make us regardful of the ivants of our poorer 
brethren! For w'hoso hath this world's good's, and seeth his 
brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion 
from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?" In these, 
and in every other way in which we can show our interest in 
the members of Christ, and our tender regard for their happi- 
ness, will brotherly love operate where it exists in reality and in 


1. Those who live vain and trifling lives, or who indulge in 
habitual levity. 

Let it not be once named among you, as becometh sail. ... , neither filthi- 
ness, nor foolish talking, which are not convenient. — Eph. v. 3, 4. 

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. — Matt. xii. 34. 

2. All idle persons, who pursue no honest employment. 
If any would not work, neither should he eat. — 2 Thess. iii. 10. 

3. All who attend places of sinful amusement, theatres, par- 
ties, balls, &c. 

For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even 
weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ ; whose end is 
destruction, whose god is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame. — 
Phil. iii. 18, 19. 

Lovers of pleasure, more than lovers of God. — Tim. iii. 4. 

*See James' Christian Professor, — a work which every professor should 
have, and study. 


But she that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth. — 1 Tim. v. 6. 

For the time past of our life may suffice us to have wrought the will of 
the Gentiles, when we walked in lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, revel- 
lings, banquetings, and abominable idolatries. — 1 Peter iv. 3. 

4. All who entertain ill-will or hatred towards any one : this 
is murder. 

Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer. — 1 John iii. 15. 

5. All who originate or circulate slander of brethren, or of 
any one else. 

If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, 
but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain. — James i. 26. 

He that hideth hatred with lying lips, and he that uttereth a slander, is a 
fool. — Prov. X. 18. 

Whoso privily slandereth his neighbor, him will I cut off. — Psalm ci. 5. 

These .... things doth the Lord hate — a false witness that speaketh 
lies, and him that soweth discord among brethren. — Prov. vi. 16, 19. 

6. All who have unsettled difficulties with others that might 
be settled if they were rightly disposed. 

Let not the sun go down upon your wrath. — Eph. iv. 26. 

First be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift. 
Agree with thine adversary quickly. — Matt. v. 24, 25. 

7. All who are engaged in any unlawful or sinful employ- 
ment, such as that of lotteries, gambling, in buying or vending 
tickets, &c. 

I will wash my hands in innocency ; so will I compass thine altar, O Lord. 
— Psalm xxvi. 6. 

8. All heads of families who neglect family prayer. 

Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know thee not, and upon the 
families that call not on thy name. — Jer. x. 25. 

9. All who do not keep their word in business. 

Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord. — Prov. xii. 22. 

10. All who are conscious of having committed a scandalous 
offence unknown to the church, and of which they have not 

He that covereth his sins shall not prosper : but whoso confesseth and 
forsaketh them shall have mercy. — Prov. xxiii. 13. 

11. All who live in such neglect of duty or practice of sin 
as to lay a stumbling block before the church or the world. 

That no man put a stumbling block, or an occasion to fall, in his brother's 
way. — Rom. xiv. 13.* 

*See Revival Tracts. 



1. To remember that we are all subject to failings and infirm- 
ities, of one kind or another. — Matt. vii. ; 1 — 5. Rom. ii : 21 — 23. 

2. To bear with and not magnify each other's infirmities. — 
Gal. vi. 1. 

3. To pray one for another in our social meetings, and par- 
ticularly in private. — James, v. 16. 

4. To avoid going from house to house, for the purpose of 
hearing news, and interfering with other people's business. — 
Lev. xix. 16. 

5. Always to turn a deaf ear to any slanderous report, and 
to allow no charge to be brought against any person until well 
founded and proved. — Prov. xxv. 23. 

6. If a member be in fault, to tell him of it in private, before 
it is mentioned to others. — Matt, xviii. 15. 

7. To watch against shyness of each other, and put the best 
construction on any action that has the appearance of opposition 
or resentment. — Prov. x. 12. 

8. To observe the just rule of Solomon, that is, to leave off 
contention before it he meddled zuith. — Prov. xvii. 1-1. 

9. If a member has offended, to consider how glorious, how 
God-like it is to forgive, and how unlike a Christian it is to 
revenge. — Bph. iv. 2. 

10. To remember that it is always a grand artifice of the 
Devil, to promote distance and animosity among members of 
Churches, and we should, therefore, watch against every thing 
that furthers his end. — James, iii. 16. 

11. To consider how much more good we can do in the 
world at large, and in the Church in particular, when we are 
all united in love, than we could do when acting alone, and 
indulging a contrary spirit. — John xiii. 35. 

12. Lastly, to consider the express injunction of Scripture, 
and the beautiful example of Christ, as to these important 
things. — Eph. iv. 32. — 1 Peter, ii. 21. — John, xiii. 5, 35.* 


Let these be used in the closet, and then made the subject 
matter of prayer. 

1. When did I first entertain a hope of an interest in the 
Saviour ? 

Recall to mind, if possible, the precise time of your conver- 
sion, together with the circumstances and the peculiarities, if 
any, attendant upon it. 

*See Plumer's Church Manual. 


2. What are the evidences that I have experienced a change 
of heart? 

The principal evidences of conversion are a heartfelt sense 
that the doctrines of the Bible are true and excellent ; — enjoy- 
ment in religious company and conversation ; — delight in perus- 
ing the sacred Scriptures, and other religious books, and in 
meditating upon divine subjects; happiness in public, private, 
and secret worship; joy at the prosperity of Zion, and a desire 
that the cause of Christ should flourish and triumph ; humility 
and meekness in deportment ; benevolence to all men, and com- 
placency in Christians ; hatred to sin and love of holiness ; and 
scrupulous obedience to the commands of God in daily conduct. 

3. What have I done for Jesus Christ, since I embraced a 
hope of having become his disciple? 

It is duty "to spend and be spent" for him who has done so 
much for man — laid down his precious life to redeem him, and 
who now intercedes in heaven for his followers. 

4. What have I done against Jesus Christ since I espoused 
his cause? 

Every sin, whether of thought, feeling, word or action, is, 
directly, or indirectly, against Jesus Christ. 

5. Am I now any holier than when I first entertained a hope 
of salvation? 

It is enjoined upon Christians, "Grow in grace and in the 
knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 

6. At my present rate of sanctification, will it not be very 
long before I shall be prepared for heaven ? 

It is my duty to press forward in perfection, "unto the 
measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ." "Be ye per- 
fect even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." 

7. Do I commence and close every day with reading and 
meditating upon the Scriptures, and with secret prayer? 

David resolves, "Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I 
pray and cry aloud." He says, also, "O how love I thy law ! 
It is my meditation all the day." 

8. Am I formal and hypocritical, or sincere and spiritual in 
my devotions? 

It is a direction of the Saviour, "When thou prayest, thou 
shouldst not be as the hypocrites are." — "When ye pray, use 
not vain repetitions, as the heathen do." — "God is a Spirit; and 
they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." 

9. Am I influenced in all I think, say and do, by a regard to 
the glory of God? 

"Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do 
all to the glory of God." 


10. Am I entirely consecrated to Christ and the Church? Is 
it the language of my heart and Hfe, I am thine, O Lord ! wholly 
thine, and thine forever? 

"And all Judah rejoiced at the oath ; for they had sworn with 
all their heart, and sought him with their whole desire ; and he 
w^as found of them ; and the Lord gave them rest round about." 

Dear Brethren, "Examine yourselves whether ye be in the 
faith ; prove your own selves ; know ye not your own selves, 
how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates ?"' Be 
honest with yourselves and with God ; so shall you escape per- 
dition and obtain eternal life, and, peradventure, turn many to 
righteousness, who shall be your crown of rejoicing.* 



1. Are you in the practice of daily secret prayer? 

2. Are you in the practice of daily family prayer? 

3. Do you daily, with a prayerful desire to improve in Chris- 
tian knowledge, read the word of God? 

4. Do you make it a matter of conscience to attend all meet- 
ings for social worship appointed by the church, except as the 
providence of God shall otherwise direct? 

5. Do you feel it your duty to do something every day to 
bring sinners to repentance? 

6. Do you pray every day, that God would bless his truth to 
the conviction and conversion of sinners? 

7. Do you, conscientiously, do what you can, by your pecuni- 
ary ability, to promote the kingdom of the Redeemer ? 

8. Are you doing any thing to further the salvation of the 
rising generation, in Sabbath schools and Bible classes ? 

9. Do you sincerely desire and pray for the salvation of the 
children and youth committed to your care? 

10. Are you at peace with all who love Christ? 

11. Are you as tender of the reputation of a brother as of 
your own? 

12. Do you keep your tongue from speaking evil of a brother, 
and if, in any thing you are displeased with him, do you follow 
the gospel rule, and tell him your feelings between him and 
)^ourself alone? 

13. Do you cultivate a spirit of Christian tenderness towards 
the failings and imperfections of your brethren? 

14. Do you make it a solemn matter of conscience never to 
visit any place of amusement, or social pleasure on which you 

*See Plumer's Manual. 


cannot first ask the divine blessings or where it may be deemed 
intrusive to introduce the subject of reh,s;'ion? 

15. Do you teel a readiness to forgive, and pray for your 
enemies ? 

16. Do you labour daily to promote your own, and the sancti- 
fication of your brethren ? 

17. Do you pray daily for 3^our minister, and for the officers 
of the church ? 

18. Do you labour to keep your heart constantly alive to a 
sense of obligation : 1. To God ; 2. To all the friends of the 
Saviour ; and, 3. To your perishing fellow creatures ? 

19. Do you feel it to be your solemn duty, to consecrate all 
you have, and are, to the Lord? 

20. Will you read these questions, at least once every week, 
and pray to God to search your heart in reference to the several 
points of christian practice suggested by them?* 


Extract from Seeker's Nonsuch Professor, Published in the 
Last Century. 


Because more is done for him than for others. 

Because he is more nearly related to God than others. 

Because he professes more than others. 

Because he is inwardly conformed to the Redeemer more than 

Because he is looked upon more than others. 

Because if he does no more than others, it will appear that he 
is no more than others. 

Because he is appointed to be a judge of others. 

Because he expects more than others. 


He does much good, and makes but little noise. 

He brings up the bottom of his life to the top of his light. 

He prefers the duty he owes to God, to the danger he fears 
from man. 

He seeks the public good of others, above the private good 
of himself. 

He has the most beautiful conversation among the blackest 

He chooses the worst of sorrows, rather than commit the least 

*See Manual of 3d Presbyterian Church, N. Y. 


He becomes a father to all in charity, and a servant to all in 

He mourns most before God, for those lusts which appear 
least before men. 

He keeps his heart lowest, when God raises his estate highest. 

He seeks to be better inwardly in his substance, than out- 
w'ardl}- in appearance. 

He is g-rieved more at the distresses of the church, than af- 
fected at his own happiness. 

He renders the greatest good, for the greatest evil. 

He takes those reproofs best which he needs most. 

He takes up duty in point of performance, and lays it down 
in point of dependence. 

He takes up his contentment in God's appomtment. 

He is more in love with the employment of holiness, than 
with the enjoyment of happiness. 

He is more employed in searching his own heart, than in 
censuring other men's states. 

He sets out for God at his beginning, and holds out with him 
to the end. 

He takes all the shame of his sins to himself, and gives all the 
glory of his services to Christ. 

He values an heavenly reversion above an earthly profession. 


Would they do more than others? Then they must deny 
themselves more than others. 

Would they deny themselves more than others? Then they 
should pray more than others. 

Would they pray more than others? Then they should re- 
solve more than others. 

Would they resolve more than others? Then they should 
love more than others. 

Would they love more than others? Then they should be- 
lieve more than others. 

Would they believe more than others? Then they should 
know more than others. 

Would they know more than others ? Then God must reveal 
himself more to them, than he does to others. 



The believer will walk by this principle : that whatsoever is 
transacted by men on earth, is eyed by the Lord in heaven. 

That after all his present receivings, he will be brought to his 
future reckonings. 


That God bears a greater respect to his heart than to his 

That there is more future bitterness in reflecting on sin, than 
there can be present sweetness in the commission of sin. 

That there is the greatest vanity in all created excellency. 

That duties can never have too much attention paid to them, 
nor too little confidence placed in them. 

That those precious promises, which are given to increase his 
happiness, do not supercede those directions which are laid 
down for him to seek after happiness. 

That it is dangerous to dress himself for another world, at 
the looking glass of this world. 

That where sin proves hateful, it will not prove hurtful. 

That inward purity is the ready road to outward purity. 

That all the time which God allows him, is but enough for the 
work he allots him. 

That there can never be too great an estrangement from de- 

That whatsoever is temporally enjoyed should be spiritually 

That he should think well of God. whatsoever evil he receive 
from God. 

That the longer God forbears with the unrelenting sinner in 
life, the sooner he strikes him in the judgment day. 

That there is no judging of the inward dispositions of men, 
by the outward dispensations of God. 

That it is the safest to cleave to that good which is the 

That no present worldly business should interrupt his pursuit 
of future blessedness. 

That gospel integrity tov/ards God is the best security against 
wicked men. 

That the richness of the crown that shall be received, shall 
more than compensate for the bitterness of the cross which may 
here be endured. 


The attention of church members should be particularly di- 
rected to the subject of covetousness. "So far," says Mr. 
Fuller, "is the love of the world from being the less dangerous 
on accot:nt of its falling so little under human censure, that it 
is the more so. If we be guilty of any thing which exposes us 
to the reproach of mankind, such reproach may assist the re- 
monstrances of conscience, and of God, in carrying conviction 
to our bosom ; but of that for which the word acquits us, we 
shall be exceedingly disposed to acquit ourselves. 


It has long appeared to me, that this species of covetousness 
will, in all probability, prove the eternal overthrow of more 
characters among professing people than almost any other sin ; 
and this because it is almost the only sin which may be indulged, 
and a profession of religion at the same time supported. If 
a man be a drunkard, a fornicator, an adulterer, or a liar ; if he 
rob his neighbor, oppress the poor, or deal unjustly, he must 
give up his pretensions to religion ; or if not, his religious con- 
nections, if they are worthy of being so denominated, will give 
him up : but he may love the world, and the things of the zuorld, 
and at the same time retain his character. If the depravity of 
the human heart be not subdued by the grace of God, it will 
operate. If a dam be placed across some of its ordinary chan- 
nels, it will flow with greater depth and rapidity through those 
that remain. It is thus, perhaps, avarice is most prevalent in 
old age, when the power of pursuing other vices has in a great 
measure subsided. And thus it is with professors of religion, 
whose hearts are not right with God. They cannot figure away 
with the profane, nor indulge in gross immoralities ; but they 
can love the world supremely, and be scarcely amenable to hu- 
man judgment." 

Covetousness is a strong and inordinate desire after the 
things of earth, overbearing the motives and claims of piety. 
It assumes different forms in different persons. In some it is 
worldliness, or an eager desire for the attainment of worldly 
prosperity, happiness, or pleasure, to the neglect of spiritual and 
religious duties. In some it is rapacity, or "covetousness grasp- 
ing;" "making haste to be rich;" and thus overlooking the 
means employed to secure this object. In others it is parsi- 
mony; the frugality of selfishness, the habit of parting with as 
little as possible. It will be mean, it will prevaricate, it will 
promise and not give, it will get angry, it will keep away from 
church or the place of meeting — any thing, to avoid doing and 
giving what is demanded of it. In others it is avarice, or covet- 
ousness hoarding, looking upon money as its own end, denying 
itself, and family, and friends, necessary comforts, and utterly 
refusing to part with any thing it can withhold, to any benevo- 
lent object. In some it is prodigality, or covetousness of the 
wealth and enjoyments of others, while it squanders its own. 
It has nothing to give— it is unable to afiford the smallest sum — 
except when the belly, or the dress, or outward shew demands, 
and then you will find this poor and straitened individual, living 
well, dressing finely, and dwelling at ease. 

By comparing professors of religion with these five portraits 
of covetousness, its alarming prevalence will be at once seen. 
It is the predominating evil of our times. It is the almost uni- 
versal characteristic, in some degree, of professors and non- 
10— Voiv. V. 


professors, and this the more surely, as "none confess the sm of 

It disguises itself under the pressure of business — the claims 
of children — the necessary demands of fashion and respecta- 

Professor of religion ! Covetousness, in all its forms, and in 
every degree, is guilt. On no subject is Scripture more ex- 
plicit. It appears to have been the principal element in the first 
transgression. It has maintained a fatal ascendancy in all ages. 
It has led to the foulest acts and the most fearful results that 
have ever stained the history of man. It stands associated 
with all the principal sins. It will form one of the features of 
the final apostasy. It is identified with idolatry. 

It injures a professor of religion, by taking ofif his energies 
from religion ; by taking off his supreme trust from God, and 
giving it to the world ; by involving him in many and grievous 
inconsistencies ; by keeping him in the bonds of the world ; by 
generating discontent ; by neutralizing the effects of preaching ; 
by fostering hypocrisy and formality; by making the sabbath 
a weariness, and unfitting him for reading, meditation and 

It thus injures the church, by corrupting its doctrines and 
piety; and by confirming worldly men in their insensibility to 
the claims of the Gospel. 

God pronounces his everlasting curse upon it, in all its forms 
It brings its own miserable punishment. God often visits it 
with some open infliction of his anger. He denounces it now ; 
and though the world approves the covetous man, God abhors 
him, and when death meets him Hell will be seen following 
after him. 

Reader, art thou the man ? 

Let every professor of religion read, study, and pray over, 
that most seasonable work "Mammon."* 


Remember that you hold your property, as well as your time 
and talents, in trust for God. 

Remember that as you now sow, so shall you also reap. 

Remember that God has a right to all you possess, as well as 
to the part he asks for his cause. 

Rjemember his goodness to you, and as you have freely re- 
ceived, so freely give. 

Remember that God authoritatively commands you to be 
ready to distribute, and willing to communicate. 

*By Harris to which we are indebted for much of the preceding. 


Remember that it is for your own present and eternal benefit, 
to be liberal in your charity. 

Remember that in your liberality, is involved the glory of 
God, and the credit of religion. 

Remember the example of your divine Redeemer's love. 

Remember that in dedicating yourself to God, you also con- 
secrated all you had to his service. 

Remember the perishing state of the world. 

Remember the loud calls of the church. 

Remember how the primitive Christian acted. 

Remember the promises and prophecies of the Bible. 

Remember the claims of benevolence and piety, when you 
arrange and calculate your expenses. 

Remember them every time you look at your affairs, and 
every time you receive or promise money. 

Remember that iT is mori: blessud to oivt than To reci^iviv 

Do this — while at the same time you remember the power, 
prevalence, guilt and doom of covetousness, and you will, you 
must be, liberal. 


1. Be well founded in the nature and reasons of your religion. 

2. Get every grace and truth which you believe, into your 
hearts and lives. 

3. Take heed lest you fall away by thinking you are past all 

-i. Take heed of the company and doctrine of deceivers. 

5. Be very watchful against the sin of pride. 

6. Take heed of a divided hypocritical heart, not wholly given 
to God. 

7. Take heed lest the world, or anything in it, steal again 
your hearts, and seem too sweet to you. 

8. Keep a strict watch over your fleshly appetite and sense. 

9. Keep as far as you can from temptations, and from all 
occasions and opportunities of sinning. 

10. Walk in company with christians, and never omit, or 
disesteem any ordinance, or means of grace. 

11. Keep always before you the doleful, hopeless and most 
miserable condition of a backslider. 

12. Be alarmed at the first beginning of coldness, and retreat 
before you first have slidden, and are unable to preserve your- 
self from falling. 

13. Constantly implore God to give you grace sufficient to 
observe these rules, and to keep near to him that he may keep 
near to you.* 

*See Baxter, Vol. 4. 



FROM wickliffe;. 

The first hindrance is, the sins of him who prayeth. Accord- 
ing to that in Isaiah, "when ye make many prayers I will not 
hear you, for your hands are full of blood." 

The second is, doubting. As saith the Apostle James, "let a 
man ask in faith nothing doubting.'' 

The third hindrance is, when a man asketh not that which 
ought to be asked. As in Matt, xx, it is said, "ye know not 
what ye ask." And in James, "ye ask and receive not, because 
ye ask amiss." 

The fourth is the unworthiness of those for whom we pray. 
Thus God, in Jeremiah, saith, "pray not for this people, for I 
shall not hear thee." 

The fifth hindrance is, the multitude of evil thoughts. Thus 
Abraham (Gen. xv.) drove away the birds, that is, he that 
prayeth shall drive away evil thoughts. 

The sixth is despising of God's law. In Psalms xxviii., God 
says, "the prayer of him that turneth away his ear from hearing 
the law of God, shall be cursed as an abomination." 

The seventh is hardness of soul ; and this is in two ways. 
First in (Prov. xxi.) it is said, "if a man stoppeth his ear at the 
cry of the poor, he shall cry and shall not be heard." The sec- 
ond is, when one has trespassed, and we refuse to forgive him. 
As Christ says, "when ye stand to pray, forgive ye, if ye have 
anything against any man — that if ye forgive not to men, 
neither shall your Father forgive your sins. 

The eighth hindrance is, the increasing of sin. David saith 
to God, "They that draw themselves from you shall perish." In 
James iv. it is said, "draw nigh ye to God, and he shall draw 
nigh to you." "He nigheth to God that ceaseth of evil work." 

The ninth is, suggestions of the Devil, that withdraw many 
men from prayer. 

The tenth is littleness of desire. Augustine saith — "God 
keepeth that thing from thee, which he will not give to thee, 
that thou learn to desire great things." 

The eleventh hindrance is, the impatience of him that asketh 
counsel. Saul asked counsel of the Lord, (1 Saml. xxviii.) 
and he answered not Saul. And Saul saith "Seek ye to me, a 
woman that hath an unclean spirit." 

The twelfth is, the default of perseverance in prayer. Christ 
saith — "If a man continue knocking at the gate, the Friend, 
(that is God) shall rise and give him as many loaves as he 
needeth." Augustine saith — "If prayer is not removed, be 
thou secure that mercy is not removed." But here take heed 
that prayer stand most in good living — that prayer with mouth 


accord with deed — and so continue and thou shalt receive. 
Therefore, Christ, in Luke xxiii. "It behoveth to pray ever and^ 
cease not." And Augustine saith — "As long as thou hast holy 
desires, and livest after God's law, in charity, thou orayest ever 


"Pray zvithout ceasing." "Thy kingdom come." 

Sabbath, — Sabbath duties and privileges, as preaching. Sab- 
bath schools, family instruction, etc., etc. 2 Thess. iii. 1. 

Monday, — Conversion of the world ; — Foreign missions, the 
destruction of Antichrist, the downfall of idolatry, and all false 
religion, and the universal prevalence of peace, knowledge, lib- 
erty, and salvation. Bible, missionary, and tract societies the 
cause of seamen, etc. Ps. ii. 8. 

Tuesday, — The ministers of the gospel, and all who are pre- 
paring to become such ; and likewise societies for the education 
of pious young men for the ministry. 1 Thess. v. ; Luke x. 2. 

Wednesday, — The rising generation, — colleges, seminaries 
and schools of every description ; the children of the church, the 
children of the ungodly, and orphan children. Isa. xliv. 3. 

Thursday, — Professing Christians, — that they may much 
more abound in all the fruits of the Spirit, presenting their 
bodies a living sacrifice, and ofifering gladly of their substance 
to the Lord, to the extent of his requirement, — that afflicted 
saints may be comforted, backsliders reclaimed, and hypocrites 
converted, — that Zion, being purified, may arise and shine. Isa. 
Ixii. 1. 

Friday, — Our country, — our rulers, our free institutions, our 
benevolent societies ; forgiveness of national sins ; deliverance 
from all evil, Romanism, infidelity, Sabbath-breaking, intem- 
perance, profanity, etc. Dan. ix. 19 ; Ps. Ixvii. 1, 2. 

Saturday, — The Jews. Isa. liv. 8 ; Esek. xxxvi. 27. Also 
our friends. 

The attention of all who love our Lord Jesus Christ, is ear- 
nestly solicited to the plan here presented. May it not be 
hoped, that every one into whose hands it may come, will at 
least give it a hearty trial F Will the Redeemer's kingdom ever 
come, until his people, with humble, fervent and united supplica- 
tions, prostrate their souls before the eternal throne? Why 
lingers the work of salvation so long? Why do such numbers 
perish from among ourselves ? and why do the heathen continue 
to go down to ruin, in countless multitudes ? Alas ! prayer is 
wanting ; — humble, believing, persevering prayer. This is the 
means which secures efficacy to all other means — the mighty 
power to set every wheel in motion. 


The Lord has promised, that his glory shall be revealed, and 
all flesh shall see it together. Beloved Christian friends, do we 
desire to see this glory? Then let agonizing supplications as- 
cend for the upbuilding of Zion. (Ps. cii. 16.) Let our whole 
souls be engaged in the work. Cherishing the deepest sense of 
our weakness and entire dependance, let us humbly plead with 
God, remembering and believing, that "he will regard the 
prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer." Do we 
desire our own prosperity? It is written, "Pray for the peace 
of Jerusalem. They shall prosper that love thee."* 


1. Read the Bible in the spirit of continual prayer: prayer 
before you begin, prayer mixed with your reading, and prayer 
when you have done. 

2. Mix faith with all you read. The Gospel is as food : faith 
receives, eats and digests it, and thus it becomes nourishing. 

3. Read the Bible with great reverence, and vv^ith a humble 
and teachable mind. 

i. Read the Bible with patient meditation, and with self-ap- 
plication and self-examination. 

5. Read the Bible with simplicity of mind, desiring to be 
instructed in the truth of God ; and with a single eye to the 
salvation of your soul. 

6. Read the Bible with a heart devoted to God. 

7. Read it habitually, and if possible regularly, and at stated 

8. Read one book through before you begin another; and 
read the whole Bible through. 

9. Compare one part of scripture with another. 

10. Have respect to the analogy of faith, or the general plan 
of interpreting scripture. 

11. Use the helps recommended under this head in the Chris- 
tian's Library p. 230, when you meet with any thing you do not 

12. Ascertain the literal sense before you seek any other. 

13. Endeavor to obtain a view of the whole truth intended to 
be made known in the passage. 

14. Read the Bible, observing throughout its constant testi- 
monies to Jesus. t 

*See Quarterly Register. 

fSee Bickersteth's "Scripture Help." Fry's Scripture Reader, Franck's 
Guide to the Study of the Scriptures, Home's Introduction, and Abbott's 
Young Christian, chap. viii. the plans of which are commended to particular 



Many excuse themselves from attendance on church because 
it rains. Now in many cases, it is proper and advisable for 
persons who are delicate, and who would suffer by exposure, to 
remain at home, and wait upon God in their closets, by reading 
the Bible, or spritual works, and by prayer. 

But do you stay away from church, when, were it a week day, 
you would unhesitatingly go to your business, or visit a friend, 
or attend upon an evening party? Then surely you condemn 
yourself, and confess that obedience to God and the worship of 
God, and the interests of your soul, are of less importance than 
the claims of the world, or of pleasure. Is not this honouring 
and serving the creature more than the Creator, and loving 
pleasure more than God? And does not God pronounce this to 
be idolatry? 

Again. Do you stay away from church when you think your 
minister, though he may be as delicate as yourself, ought never- 
theless to attend. Then you again condemn yourself. For he 
is under no more obligation to minister, than you to be minis- 
tered unto — or to preach, than you to hear — or to conduct the 
worship of God, than you to render that worship which is due 
unto Him. 

How often is the man who stays at home on the Sabbath be- 
cause of the weather, found at his worldly business, early and 
late, in far worse weather — and is the one more necessary or 
imperative or advantageous than the other? 

How often is the man who lives nearest to the church, the 
absentee, when he can excuse his cold indifference to God by 
the cold or damp state of the atmosphere? "Be sure this sin 
will find you out, for God looketh upon the heart." 


1. It is the duty of every Christian to be revived in heart, 
grozving in grace, and doing all he can to glorify God. The 
obligation of this duty rests upon the present moment. Rom. 
xiii. 11. Thess. v. 4-8. Eph. v. 14. Isah. Ix. 1. 1 John, i. 6. 
Heb. iii. 15. 2 Cor. vi. 2. 

2. God hears and answers the pra}^ers of his children when 
they are in the way of obedience. 1 John iii. 22 ; John xv. 7. 

3. When Christians pray and labour for the salvation of 
souls that God may be glorified, sinners will be converted. Matt, 
iii. 10. 

4. It is the sinful neglect of the Church that prevents her 
from enjoying a perpetual revival. Isah. Ixvi. 8. (Inference 
from, the above.) 


5. When no souls are converted in a congregation, let no 
follower of Christ look round upon this or that brother, or sis- 
ter, or any number of them, who do not come up to the work, 
and complain that they are standing in the way of God's bless- 
ing. Let him look at home, and say, "Lord, is it I?" Matt, 
vii. 1-5. Rom. ii. 1. James, iv. 11. 

C. If but tivo members of a Church become truly revived 
themselves, and agree together, and offer up the prayer of faith 
for a revival of religion, they may expect that blessing will be 
granted. Matt, xviii. 19. 

7. No Church can be without a revival, and be excusable. 
Rev. ii. 4; iii. 15, 16. 

8. Let not God's praying people be discouraged because their 
numbers are few in comparison with the whole Church. Judges, 
vii. 7. 1 Saml. xiv. 1-17. 

9. The curse of the Lord rests upon those members of the 
Church, who refuse to come up to the work of promoting his 
glory. Judges, v. 23. The principle of God's government, 
developed in this passage, applies to the Church in all ages. 

10. Let not Christians spend their time and divert their atten- 
tion, by complaining to one another of those who stand back. 
It is not their business to curse them ; Rom. xii. 14 ; neither to 
wait for them ; but to go forzvard in the strength of the Lord. 
There are multitudes in the Church who are "twice dead, and 
plucked up by the roots." If you wait for them, you will never 
do any thing. 

11. While the world lies in wickedness, there is no time for 
Christians to seek for personal enjoyment. The feelings of 
Christians, while labouring for the salvation of souls, are com- 
pared in Scripture to the severest agonies and most painful 
struggles to which human nature is subject. Gal. iv. 19. And 
God has pronounced a heavy woe upon "them that are at ease in 
Zion." Amos, vi. 1. Yet, although our rest be not on earth, 
if we are found faithful, God will give us on our way, joys 
which no man can take from us. John, xvi. 21, 22. 

12. The progress of a revival is arrested only when God's 
people grieve away his Holy Spirit ; therefore the cessation of a 
revival brings great guilt upon the Church. 2 Chron. xv. 2. 
1 Thess. V. 19. Eph. iv. 30. Isa. Ixiii. 10. 

There may be a revival when there is not much excitement or 
noise, but when there is the spirit of prayer, and of effort, and 
continual accessions to the church ; and this is the revival most 
to be desired.* 

*See Hints to Christians. 



When Christians have been, for some length of time, praying 
for a revival, without receiving the blessing, it is time for them 
to conclude they have been asking amiss. If you would know 
the reason why your prayers have not been aswered, examine 
them with reference to the following particulars : 

1. You may not have desired a revival of religion that God 
might he glorified; but simply from feeling of natural sympathy 
for sinners, without regard to the honour of God. 1 Cor. x. 31. 
James iv. 3. 

2. You may be indulging sin, or neglecting duty; in which 
case the Lord will not answer your prayers. The habitual in- 
dulgence of one sinful passion, or the habitual neglect of your 
known duty, is sufficient to prevent you from receiving the 
blessing of God. Ps. Ixvi. 18. Prov. xxviii. 9. Isa. lix. 1, 2. 

You may be exercising an unforgiving temper. Mark xi. 
25, 26. Matt, xviii. 35. 

4. You may not have been sufficiently humble. Ps. cxxxviii. 
6. Isa. Ixvi. 2 ; li. 15. 1 Peter v. 6. James iv. 10. 

5. You may not have asked in faith. James i. 5-8. Mark 
xi. 24. 

6. Your supplications may not have been sufficiently earnest. 
Luke xxii. 14. James v. 17. Acts xii. 5. 


"Those who are first in the fashion, are often last in the library; and 
perhaps, never there." — Clarke. 

In every family there should be a library. The mind should 
be provided for no less than the body. Such a library, if well 
filled with interesting and profitable works, will serve to make 
home attractive, and will occupy the leisure hours ; will improve 
the understanding, and better the heart. The present age, our 
country, and the general diffusion of education, demand this 
provision in the family of every man who would bring up his 
children usefully, honourably, and virtuously. 

The Christian family should be provided with a Library of 
Christian books, in addition to those of a general or literary 
character. Such religious books in a family, are of incalcula- 
ble importance, and have been found eminently serviceable to 
the Church of God. Many by their influence alone, have been 
led to the experience of that hope which is full of immortality. 
I have myself known one such instance, where the religious 
books of a pious Christian, long after he had gone to rest, were 
blessed to the conscience of an ungodly partner. Reader, the 
Christian is under imperative obligations to "add to his faith, 



knowledge," that his own soul may be established in the faith, 
and that he may be able to give a reason of the hope that is in 
him to every man that asketh him. 

The study of religion is not confined to ministers of religion. 
It is the privilege and duty of all the members of the Church. 
The Scriptures speak much in favour of knowledge. See Prov. 
xix. 2, xviii. 15, xxii. 17, xv. 15 ; Eccles. vii. 12. This study is 
needful for the proper understanding of the Bible. It is still 
more necessary to have a clear and satisfactory comprehension 
of Christianity. Intelligent and learned private Christians have 
been of most eminent service to the cause of piety. Witness 
Bacon, Boyle, Hale, Pascal, Haller, Good, and others. The 
prevalence of error and infidelity requires this knowledge in all 
who profess religion. And the cultivation of this knowdedge 
will most essentially promote happiness, and provide for the 
period of confinement, solitude, affliction, and old age. 

We will therefore subjoin a list of books which are recom- 
mended for the Christian department of the Christian Library. 

I. The Bible. 

Bagster's Comprehensive Bible. 

Cruden's Concordance, 

Works of Josephus, 

Alexander's History of the Jews, 

Hunter's Sacred Biography. 

Finden's Landscape Illustrations of 

the Bible, 
Scott's Commentary, 
Henry's do. 

Home's introduction to the Bible, 
Doddridge's New Testament, 
Townsend's arrangement of the Old 

and New Testament. 
N. B. on the New, nublished in this 

Brown's Dictionary of the Bible, 
Calmet's do. 

Alexander's Geography of the Bible, 

on the Canon of Scripture, 

Clarke on the Promises, 
Gaston's Collections, 
Alexander on the Evidences, 
Paley's Evidences and Horae Pau- 

Hooker's Modern Infidelity, 
Home on the Psalms, 
Luther on Galatians, 
Leighton on Peter, 
Robinson's Scripture Characters, 
Female Scripture Biography, 
Prideaux's Connections, 
Shuckleford's do. 

History of the Bible. 
Whitecross's Anecdotes on the Old 

and >vew Testament, 
Real Dialogues, 
Conversations on the Bible, 
Keith's Evidences of Proohecy, 
Newton on the Prophecies, 

Cave's Lives of the Apostles, 
Evans' Scripture Biography, 
Bridgewater Treatises, 
Natural tiistory of the Bible, 
Harmer's Observations, 
Buck's Theological Dictionary. 

II. iiiS Church. 

Milner's Church History, 

Scott's continuation of do. 

Cave's Primitive Christianity, 

King's " 

Claude's History of Reformation, 

Neale's History of the Puritans, 

Towgood's Dissent from the Church 

of England, 
Barnes' Episcopacy Examined, 
Brown on Presbyterian Church 

Anderson's Defence of Presbyterian 

Church Government, 
The Assembly's Digest, 
Dr. Miller on Presbyterianism, 
Letters on the Christian 


on the Office of the Ruling 


on Infant Baptism, 

Williams on Ditto, 

Woods on Ditto, 

Jerram's Conversations on Ditto, 

Dick on Church Polity, 

Clarkson on Liturgies, 

Reid's History of the Presbyterian 

Churcu in Ireland, 
Westminster Confession of Faith. 
The Biblical Repertory, a quarterly 

Presbyterian Review. This should 

be read by every Presbyterian 




James' Church Member's Guide, 
Maurice's Social Religion, 
Smith's History of Missions, 
Sprague's Hints on Intercourse of 

McGavin's Protestant. 
Brook's j^ives of the Puritans, 
Palmer's ^Jonconformists Memorial. 

Dissenter's Catechism. 

Scot's Worthies. 

Fox's Book of Martyrs. 
Willison, Brown and Fisher on the 
Shorter Catechism. 

HI. Devotions. 

Bennett's Christian Oratory, 

Wilson's Sacra Privata, 

Herbert's Works. 

Tenks' Devotions. 

Jay's Prayers, 

Henry on Prayer, 

Sheppard's Private Thoughts on 

Bishop Andrew's Devotions, 

Ken's Retired Christian. 

Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, 

Jay's Morning and Evening Exer- 

Hawker's Morning and Evening 

Episcopal Prayer Book, 

Russell's Letters, Practical and 

Aids to Devotion, 

Devout Breathings. 

IV. Family Sermons. 

Burder's Sermons, 
Beddome's Sermons, 
Davies' Discourses, 
Jay's Discourses, 

Family Sermons 

Christian Contemplated, 

Ashmead's Sermons. 

Evans' Christian Temper 
The National Preacher, 
Bailey's J^amily Preacher. 
Newton's Sermons. 
Payson's family Sermons, 
Bedell's Sermons, 
Bradley's Sermons. 

V. Lord's Supper. 

Henry's Communicant's Companion. 

Haweis's Communicant's Com- 

Orme on the Lord's Supper, 

Thomson's Sacramental Discourses, 

Belfrages Addresses, 

Earle on the Sacrament, 

Bickersteth on the Lord's Supper, 

Lavington's Addresses, 

Thomson's Communicant's Cate- 

Willson's do. 

VI. Biography. 

Lives of Henry, Doddridge, Scott, 
Martyn. Brainerd, Mrs. Graham, 
Mrs. Huntingdon, Halyburton, 
Gardiner, Major Burns, Rich- 
mond, Rochester, Fletcher, Ed- 
wards, J. Brainard Taylor, Mills, 
Payson, Knox, Luther, Melville, 

Walton's Lives, 

Burnet's Lives, 

Middleton's Evangelical Biography, 

Blunts Lectures, Lives of Harlem 
Page, Felix Neff, Oberlin. 

VII. Practical & Theological. 

Anecdotes by Religious Tract So- 
ciety, 11 vols. 

Adam's Private Thoughts, 

Abbotts Works, 

Bates on Divine Attributes, 

Baxter's Practical Works, all or any, 

Beveridges Private Thoughts or 

Bellamy's Sermons, 

Bickersteth's Works, 

Boston's Fourfold State, 

Buck's Religious Anecdotes, 

Cecil's Works, 

Chalmer's Works, 

Charnock on Providence, 

Drelincourt on Death, 

Doddridge on Regeneration, 

Rise and Progress, 

Dwight's Theology and Sermons, 
Edward's Works, all or any, 
Flavel on Providence, 

Touchstone of Sincerity, 

Saint Indeed, 

Foster's Essays, 
Gurnall's Caristian Armour, 
Gurney on ttie Sabbath, 
Hall's (Bp.) Contemplations, 
Hall's (Robert) Works, 
Hale's Meditations, 
Hervey's Meditations, 
Henry's Anxious Inouirer, 
Hinton's Active Christian, 
Hill's Village Dialogues, 
Home on the Trinity, 
Howe's Works, all, 

James' Anxious Inquirer, 

Christian Professour, 

; ramily Monitor, 

Latimer's Sermons, 

Law's Serious Call, 

Leighton's Works, 

Maclaurins's Works, 

Mason's (Dr.) Works, 


Moore's (Hannah) Works, 

Newton's Works, 

Newham's 'i ribute of Sympathy, 

Owen on Spiritual-mindedness, 

130th Psalm, 

Indwelling Sin, 



Glory of Christ, 
Holy Ghost, 

Pascal's Thoughts, 

Payson's Sermons, 

Paley's Natural Theology, by 

Pike's Guide to Young Disciples, 

Phillips' Guides, 

Quarles Emblems, 

Rambach's Meditations, 

Religious Tract Society's Tracts, 

Religious Tract Society's Family 

Romaine's Treatise on Faith, 

Rutherford's Letters, 

Scougal's Works, 

Scudder's Christian Daily Walk, 

Scott's v.orks, 

Shaw's vV^orks, 

Sprague's Works^ 

Tracts of Presbyterian Tract So'y. 

Venn's Duty of Man 

Wardlaw's ^ocinian Controversy, 

Walker's Christian. 

Wilberforce's Practical Views, 

WithersDoon's Works, 

Willison's Afflicted Man's Com- 

Whitfield's Works. 

VIL Missions. 

Home's Letters on Missions, 

Buchanan's Researches, 

Swan's Letters on Missions, 

Jowett's Researches, 

Missionary Herald, 

Foreign Missionary Chronicle, 

Lives of Eminent Missionaries, by 

Pearson's Life of Schwartz, 
Ellis' Polynesian Researches, 
Tyerman and Bennet's Journal, 
Williams' Missionary Voyages, 
Abeel's Residence in China, 
Raid's Life of a Brahmin, 
Heber's Journal, 
Ward on the Hindoos, 
Holt's Anecdotes of Missions, 
Burder's Anecdotes of Missions, 
Smith's History of Missions. 

VHL Sacred Poetry and Music. 

Pious Minstrel, 

Sacred Poetry, 

Mourner's Gift, 

Gems of Poetry, 

Bernard Barton's Devotional Verses, 

Montgomery's (James) Poems, 
Montgomery's (R.) Messiah. &c. 
Watts' Lyrics, 
Poetry of 17th Century, 

2 vols, of the Sacred Classics, 
Sigourney's Poems, 
Blair's Grave, 
Hymns, by Kelly, &c., 
The Christian Lyre, 
The Choir, 

Pollok's Course of Time, 
Young's Night Thoughts, 
Edmeston's Sacred Lyrics, 
Cowper's Poems, 

Christian Psalmist, by Montgomery, 
Keble's Christian Year, 
Heber's Hymns, 
Grahame's Sabbath, 
Bishop Ken's Poems, 
Herbert's Temple. 

IX. Education. 

Newham's Principles of Education, 

Babington on Education, 

Fenelon on Education of Daughters, 

Hannah More on Education, 

Abbott's Fireside Series, 

Todd's Sabbath School Teacher's 

Barker's Parent's Monitor, 

Richmond's Domestic Portraiture, 

Family at Home, 

Book for Parents, 

The Father's Book, 

The Mother's Book, 

The Mother at Home. 

The Child at Home, 

Fry's Scripture Principles of Edu- 

Pike's Persuasives to Early Piety. 

X. For Females. 

Daily Duties, 
Phillip's Guides, 
Maternal Solicitude, 
A Mother's First Thoughts, 
Jay's Thoughts on Marriage, 
Lives of Harriet Newell, Mary Jane 
Graham, Mrs. Graham, Mrs. Ellis, 
Mrs. Hemans' Poems, 
Burder's Memoirs of Pious Women. 
Cox's Female Scripture Biography, 
Mrs. King's Scrioture Characters, 
Phillips' Lady's Closet Library, 
The Condition of Females in Chris- 
tian and Mohammedan Countries. 

N. B. Every family may not be able to procure all of these 
works ; they may however secure some of them, and many per- 
haps most of them. The list is therefore made full, and it 
would greatly rejoice the heart of the writer could he see such 
a Library in the houses of some at least of his flock. 



The Priests lips should preserve knowledge, and the people 
should ask the law at his mouth. — Mai. ii. 7. 

Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the 
Church. — James v. 14. 

Thou shalt come unto the Priests, the Levites, to inquire ; and 
thou shalt do according to the sentence which they shall show 
thee. — Deut. xvii. 9-11. 

Shew a proof of your love. — 2 Cor. viii. 7. 

Know them that labour among you. Esteem them highly in 
love for their works sake. — 1 Thes. v. 12. 

Let the Elders who labour in word and doctrine, be counted 
worthy of double honor. — 1 Thess. v. 17. 

He that despiseth, despiseth not men but God. — 1 Thes. iv. 8, 

1. It is therefore the duty of the people to visit and shew 
respect and kindness to their pastor. 

2. Are any anxious to know of the doctrines whether they be 
of God, or to know how they can be saved, or are they in any 
spiritual distress, it is their manifest duty to wait upon the min- 
ister and to ask the law at his mouth. 

3. The minister however, is not to be involved in any worldly 
matters, or mere temporal afifairs, except where the christian 
principles to be exemplified, in such circumstances are sought 
for. Thus Christ said to him who asked him settle a dispute, 
man "who made me a judge over other men's matters." 

4. Are any sick, or bed-ridden, or otherwise prevented from 
waiting on their ministers, then let them call for him or the 
elders of the church, and inform them of the circumstances of 
the case, and let no one expect them until so informed. 

5. Ministers ought never to be expected to pay visits merely 
as an expression of respect, nor should the infrequency of their 
visits when not spiritually needed, be regarded as evincing any 
want of kindness and regard. 

6. When any member of the church visits his Pastor, let him 
have some object in view — let him introduce that object — and 
when his business is through, let him retire and not occupy his 
minister's time by a protracted visit and by idle and irrelevant 
conversation. Mr. Cotton, the grand-father of Cotton Mather, 
after such a visiter (and they are not uncommon) had departed, 
would express his regret by saying, "I had rather have given 
this man a handful of money." Time as Seneca says, and above 
all the time of a minister, is perhaps the only thing of which it 
is a virtue to be covetous. These should be regarded as im- 
printed over a minister's study, "No admission or interruption 
except on business." Such visits at any time, and to any per- 


son, except when there is an intimate familiarity are unprofit- 
able and wrong. 

7. When can advice be sought from the minister? 

The hours of ministerial study are until one o'clock, P. M. 
and generally in the evenings. 

The minister is open for the reception of visiters after one 
o'clock, or in the evening, if the visiter could find no other suit- 
able time. 

Conversation on any points of difficulty might be very prop- 
erly held with the minister after any of the services of the 
church in the place of meeting. 

In conclusion, let no one ever smother convictions, or stifle 
doubts, or repress spiritual anxieties; but at once fully and 
freely communicate with the minister, who is set over him in the 
Lord, and whose duty and privilege if is to guide all inquirers 
in the way of salvation and holiness. 


Paatnral Mtmmta. 






®hio BmoutBtB 

Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D. 


11— Vol. v. 






Aa a Parting Mtmtnto. 


^pronb T^vtBb^Urmn CfII|urrtf 






This little volume is composed of the last two discourses 
delivered by the author to his people before his sudden visita- 
tion of sickness in March, 1850. They awakened much interest 
by their delivery, and gave hope of a greater zeal, activity, and 
devotion, among the members of the Church. Though solicited 
to publish them, the author had no intention of doing so. His 
sickness, however, having laid him aside from preaching — his 
people insisted upon his not again occupying the pulpit for a 
length of time. And in addition to the great liberality with 
which they provided for the supply of his pulpit for an un- 
limited period, and for the continuance of his salary, they also 
requested the publication, for gratuitous distribution, of these 
two discourses. 

In the expectation of a lengthened absence, and possibly of 
a final separation by death, they are now printed in the hope 
that, during this period of separation, they may serve as a 
bond of union, a stimulus to mutual remembrance and prayer, 
and a constant memento of duty and of danger. 

Dismissing, therefore, the stiffness of an author, let me re- 
mind my dear hearers, that in their unanimous request for the 
publication of these sermons, they have given their solemn 
sanction to their truth and appropriateness ; and to the conse- 
quent obligation on their part to give heed to the things w^hich 
they have heard, and to do all that is here made known as their 
unquestionable duty. You are, therefore, in the position of 
the Israelites, when they declared that all that the Lord hath 
commanded us we will do. And on this solemn occasion, when 
all flattery would be a crime, my prayer is, that you may be 
enabled to realize the awful solemnity of your position in the 
sight of God with whom you have to do, and the fearful cer- 
tainty of those stripes with which He punishes those who pay 
not their vows unto the Lord. And may you thus be led under 
the influence of divine grace to return unto God, to "do your 
first works," and with all the ardor and devotion of your "first 
love," live not unto yourselves, but unto Him who loved you, 
and gave Himself for you. To Him, as the Shepherd and 
Bishop of the sheep, I commend you. It is delightful to think 
of His omnipresent care and of His omnipotent power. May 
we be both kept by His power through faith unto salvation, 
and if it is His will, may I, through your prayers, be permitted 


to return and labor among you in the fulness of the blessings 
of the Gospel of peace. 

I might here close, but I cannot. I still travail in soul. 
There are among you many of whom I am afraid, and who 
cannot but be themselves alarmed for their own salvation. 
There are still, alas, many sinners in our Zion — many who have 
made light of Christ — who have been ashamed of His disciple- 
ship and cross — who have neglected His great salvation, — and 
who cannot, therefore, but feel that should they gain the whole 
world and remain as they now are, it would profit them noth- 

May I ask the ear and attention of such for a few minutes. 
You are my friends, nay, my benefactors. You have shown 
your interest in my welfare, and most sincerely do I cherish a 
reciprocal anxiety for yours. Brethren, my heart's desire and 
prayer to God for you is, that you also may be saved. 

Listen, then, to me. Hear me for my Master's, and for your 
own sake. Let this little volume be an affectionate memento 
to you as well as to the members of the Church, and give the 
more earnest heed to the words which, from a sick body, and a 
palsied tongue, I would here press upon you. I would even 
now, with God's help, guide you from the greatest of all evils 
to the greatest of all blessings. 

Sin, my friends, is the greatest of aee evils. It is the 
cause and the occasion of all others. From this as a source 
and fountain they all flow. It is the poison which embitters 
and the sting which envenoms them. 

Other evils are temporal. Tkey afifect our body or our es- 
tate. They are external, and only influence the soul indirectly 
and by sympathy. Amid the wreck and ruin of all outward 
things, the soul remains secure, unharmed, and unaffected. Sin, 
however, is a spiritual evil. It is internal. It acts directly and 
immediately upon the soul. It is a worm at the root. It 
blights the entire foliage. It poisons the fountain. It corrupts 
the disposition, blinds the understanding, depraves the affec- 
tions, infuriates the passions, sears the conscience, enslaves the 
will, and thus, like a moral leprosy, covers the whole soul with 
wounds and bruises and putrifying sores. 

Other evils are temporary. They can, at most, last but a 
few years. They can only affect us during our pilgrimage, 
and as it regards the fare and entertainment of our pilgrim life. 
They may rob us of comforts, waste us with sickness, and at 
length wear out our "earthly house." But "they have nothing 
more that they can do." Sin, however, is an endless evil. 
Inhearing in the soul, it goes with it wherever it goes — lives 
with it while it lives — and endures while its immortality endures. 
Sin can "destroy both body and soul in hell forever." 


Other evils are partial. They are not unmitigated. Mercy 
is mingled with judgment, and goodness with severity. Pain 
and pleasure, sorrow and solace, grief and joy, misery and 
mercy, are in this life conjoined. There is some mixture of 
good in every "evil under the sun," which renders them endura- 
ble. "A man can therefore bear his infirmities." But "a 
wounded spirit who can bear?" Sin, alas! deranges the soul, 
and introduces corruption and disorder into all its faculties and 
powers. It produces spiritual death. It kills the moral and 
spiritual being, so that we become "dead in trespasses and 
sins." It breeds corruption and "the worm that dieth not." 
Sin lives zvhen the body dies and all temporal evils have termi- 
nated. It outlasts the body. It survives this present life. It 
goes with us to eternity. It stands with us at the judgment 
seat, and abides in "the second death" — "the everlasting de- 
struction from the presence of the Lord." 

Other evils are personal, or at least limited. They affect an 
individual, or a family, or a community, or a country, or at 
most a single generation. So it is with war, famine, pestilence 
and plague, and with commercial embrarrassments. But sin 
is the monster evil. It leavens the whole mass. It poisons 
the very atmosphere. It breeds corruption in every spring 
and fountain. Once introduced, it knows no end, no exhaus- 
tion, and no barrier. It is proof against law, against pru- 
dence, self-interest, intelligence and every device of human 
policy and "man's wisdom." It began with Satan, and "when 
lust had commenced, it brought forth sin" in him, and in all 
who fell with him, and who are "reserved in chains unto the 
judgment of the great day." It commenced on earth in the 
bosom of Eve, and soon extended to Adam. From them it 
has descended to all who have proceeded from them by ordi- 
nary generation, so that "all have sinned and come short of the 
glory of God," and "there is none righteous; no, not one." It 
will continue to spread from father to son, and from genera- 
tion to generation, until the heavens and earth shall be no 
more, for "the whole creation groaneth" under the curse; and 
"that which is born of the flesh" can be nothing better or purer 
than corrupt, depraved and guilty human nature. Nay, sin has 
overflowed the limits of earth and the boundaries of time, and 
poured its devastating flood into "the bottomless pit" of hell, 
Vv'here millions of its miserable victims "lift up their eyes being 
in torments." 

Sin is thus an ocean of misery which mocks at all human 
strength, laughs at human suffering, and sports itself with the 
wreck of humanity. Upon this sea we are all tossed. Its 
billows break on every shore. Compunction, remorse, agony, 
despair and death, are seen and heard on every side of us. 


"Hell from beneath is moved to meet us at our coming," and 
millions perish "without God and without hope." Oh, wretched 
men that we are, who will deliver us from this awful, this eter- 
nal death? 

Sinner! drowning, dying, perishing sinner, there is hope! 
There is an Ark which can outride the storm and surmount the 
billows. There is a life-boat which can "live" amid the fury 
of the elements. There is an arm that can save, and an eye 
that can pity. There is a balm that can heal, and a good Phy- 
sician who can cure. Jesus Christ is that Physician, and His 
"blood can cleanse from all sin." "God is now in Christ recon- 
ciling the world unto Himself, not imputing their trespasses 
unto them." "Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as 
though God did beseech yon by us : we pray you in Christ's 
stead, be ye reconciled to God." "For He hath made Him sin 
for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteous- 
ness of God in Him." This is the true and only ark of a sin- 
ner's hope ; the only life-boat which can save him amid the 
swellings of Jordan and the tempest of that dreadful day when 
"the heavens and earth shall melt with fervent heat." Sinner! 
"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ," and cast yourself upon God 
through Him, and you will be "blessed." God will love you 
with "the love which He beareth unto his own," "forgive your 
iniquities," "cover your sins," and not impute unto you your 

And surely, if sin is the greatest of all miseries, the pardon 
OE sin must be the greatest of ale blessings. It is even so. 
Pardon of sin secures the favor of that God, whose "wrath 
burneth to the lowest hell." Pardon of sin proeures access to 
God. "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God 
through our Lord Jesus Christ." Pardon Qi sin removes and 
dissipates that fear of God which naturally alienates us from 
Him as an angry judge, and sheds abroad in its stead, love and 
confidence and joy. Pardon, of sin brings zvith it peace of 
conscience. Nothing can make us happy while we have a sense 
of unforgiven sin though like David and Hezekiah, we wore a 
regal crown and swayed an empire's sceptre. And, on the 
other hand, where there is a consciousness of forgiveness and 
divine acceptance, like Abraham, Jacob and Joseph, we can be 
happy any where and in any circumstances. A sense of par- 
doned sin and God's forgiving mercy zvill still further promote 
your happiness by increasing every other happiness. It will 
sweeten the sweetest mercies, and double the richest joys. 
You may have honor, health, riches, learning, and every other 
outward comfort, and yet with them all be unsatisfied and ill at 
ease. But let God lift upon us the light of His forgiving 
mercy, and it irradiates what is gloomy, and brightens what is 


dark. Nor will this happiness decay. It is not a lurid flash 
that lights only to deceive. It is like the light of the sun which 
"shines more and more unto the perfect day." It cheers in 
adversity. It illumines the path of sorrow. It enlivens the 
bed of languishing and the chamber of death. And when we 
"enter the dark valley," the darkness becomes light, and "we 
fear no evil" because the Redeemer is with us, and "His rod 
and staff comfort us." 

Reader! Are you without "a good hope" of Divine pardon; 
then you are without that which worlds could not buy, and 
which, if you lose, the gain of the worlds "will profit you noth- 
ing." This is "the pearl of great price," "the one thing need- 
ful," "the unsearchable riches," "the gift of God." 

And do you hope in God's word, and rely upon His prom- 
ised grace? Blessed art thou. Unspeakable is the gift im- 
parted to thee, and priceless beyond calculation, the "exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory" to which you have received a title. 
Redeemed by "the precious blood of Christ," made free from 
the fetters of sin, and introduced into "the glorious liberty of 
the children of God," "gird up the loins of your mind," and 
"present yourself unto God," in "body, soul and spirit, a living 
sacrifice," a daily, hourly, and perpetual offering of praise and 

"Now THE God of peace, that brought again from the 
DEAD OUR Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, 
through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make 


you that which is well-pleasing in his sight, through 
Jesus Christ ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. 
And I BESEECH you, brethren, suffer the word of exhor- 
tation."— //^&. xiii. 20, 21, 22. 


Matt. xxiv. 12. 
"And because iniquity sliall abound, tlie love of many sliall wax cold." 

Love has been very expressively called by an old writer, the 
master bee of the hive, which carries all the swarm with it. 
For as all the other bees watch the movements of that one 
which is master, following it wherever it goes, and remaining 
with it where it remains, so do all Christian graces depend upon 
love. Love is the root and fountain of them all. They are all 
the leaves or the streams which issue from this source. The 
natural heart is supremely selfish. It is opposed to the inter- 
fering claims of others, and will not sacrifice its gratification 
for their good. It is also worldly and intensely anxious to 
become fully possessed of whatever will satisfy "the lusts of the 
fiesh, the lusts of the eyes, and the pride of life." 

The Spirit of God alone can overcome this selfishness, and 
subdue this worldliness. Ever blessed be this Divine Sancti- 
fier, He can destroy them, and the "first fruit of the Spirit, 
therefore, is love." God having taken the place of self, and 
heavenly things the place of what are earthly, the soul is made 
free to think of others, without envy or jealously, or hatred ; 
and to look upon worldly prosperity and great temporal enjoy- 
ments with an unambitious eye. And, inasmuch as this selfish- 
ness and this worldliness are the two strongest and most be- 
setting tendencies of our corrupt nature, victory over them is 
regarded as the great triumph of our faith. "Now abideth 
faith, hope, and charity," that is love;, "but the greatest of these 
is love." 

Love is thus the primary element of the Christian character 
— the first effect of the working of divine grace — the essential 
evidence of a renewed heart, — and the genuine spirit of that 
profession which is "according to godliness." Whatever, 
therefore, my dear reader, may be your moral virtues, or your 
theological attainments, or your liberality, or your apparent 
piety, without love you are not a true Christian. All is noth- 
ing and less than nothing. It is but the sound of the tinkling 
brass. There is neither life nor soul. Unless, it is essentially 
true, that your natural selfishness is subdued — unless this car- 
nality is overcome — unless your will is submitted to the will of 
God, and your desires supremely fixed on the things that are 
above, — you are still in an unconverted state, however long you 


may have professed piety, and however much you may have 
done for rehgion. 

Look at a man w^hen convinced of his sins and his awful 
danger he first flies to Christ for refuge from the wrath to 
come, and hopes he has found acceptance with Him and the 
forgiveness of his sins. What, I ask, is the most observable 
feature in his present character? Is it not love? — love to God 
— love to Christ — love to all who bear the name of Christ — 
love to all who still are what he lately was, and for whose sal- 
vation he now feels an inextinguishable desire? Selfishness 
has given place to love, and worldly mindedness to spirituality. 
Instead of seeking his own things, he now seeks the things of 
Christ. Instead of thirsting after earthly fame or pleasure, or 
wealth, he is supremely ambitious to gain an entrance into the 
heavenly kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He 
therefore loves to pray — to pray alone — to pray in the family, — 
and to pray in the circle of his associated brethren in Christ. 
He loves the Bible — the Church of the living God, and all the 
ordinances of religion. He loves the society, the converse, the 
watchful care of Christians. He loves to be with them in all 
their assembling of themselves together. He loves the cause of 
his blessed Saviour. He is liberal in his assistance, active in 
his co-operation, and zealous in all his labors. He lives and 
breathes only in the spirit of devotion. This is piety. This is 
to be like Christ. This is to be transformed by the renewing 
of your mind. If you thus love the brethren, and the Church 
of which they are brethren, and the cause to which they are 
professedly devoted, then you "know that you are passed from 
death to life." But without this spirit of heavenly love to 
Christ, to His cause, to His people, and to the souls of men, 
then, dear reader, you must be plainly and affectionately told 
that "you are nothing;" that is, you are not a true Christian. 
No, not even though you should "give all your goods to feed 
the poor," for "he; that loveth not his brother, abideth 
IN death." You may, therefore, as you are most plainly and 
solemnly bound to do, support the Church in all its necessary 
expenditures. You may commune. You may attend on all 
the ministrations of the sanctuary. You may be foremost in 
all the charities and spiritual exercises of the Church. But, 
while all this may be true, it is still equally true in the fearful 
language of the Apostle, that "he that loveth not his bro- 
ther, ABIDETH IN DEATH." If such an one, therefore, you are 
still "dead in sin." Your selfishness still reigns — your carnal 
mindedness still holds dominion over you — you are in God's 
estimation, who judges by the heart, and who looks far more 
to the things that are spiritual, than to the things which are 
temporal, "a whited sepulchre." You are in His view, to whom 


the covetous man is an idolator, and the unloving man a mur- 
derer, murderers, for "he that hateth his brother/' — he 
who is careless of his brother's soul, and who fails to use all 
his efforts to save that soul from hell, is, says God, "a mur- 
derer,, and we know that no murderer hath eternal life." (1 
John iii. 15.) 

Be reminded, therefore, dear reader, that to have once made 
a profession of religion — to have once enjoyed some workings 
of repentance — to have once felt the warmth of an ardent devo- 
tion, is no security for salvation at all. Christ here forewarns 
his disciples that "iniquity shall abound" — ^that the wicked 
shall multiply, and that they shall exercise great influence, throw 
out every bait and present all possible allurements to the follow- 
ers of Christ. Some of them therefore they flatter and caress. 
They ridicule others. They praise others. They induce others 
to join in their amusements, to partake of their pleasures, and 
to share their joys. They throw every impediment in the way 
of others, and if possessed of authority persecute them unto 
death. Christ further makes known to us that in consequences 
of these things "the love of many shall wax cold." By yielding 
to fear — by conforming to the manner and habits and conversa- 
tion and amusements of the worldly — ^by adopting their opinion 
that there is nothing sinful in dancing and the other amuse- 
ments of fashionable society — ^by mingling therefore in the ball, 
in the dance, and in similar scenes which "art not of the Father 
but of the world" — ^by thus breaking down the distinctive 
marks through which the Church and the world are separated 
and the followers of Christ are recognized as "a peculiar 
people," who have "come out from the world and are sepa- 
rate" — by holding communion with evil — by associating with 
the ungodly — by imbuing their minds with the principles and 
spirit of worldly literature — in these ways professing Christians 
become corrupted. They lose their relish for spiritual things. 
They give place to selfishness and sensuality and worldliness. 
They become negligent in prayer. Their consciences become 
uneasy. They gradually lay hold on the failings and inconsist- 
encies of those, who, like themselves, are undergoing this cool- 
ing and freezing process. And thus does their love to God, 
and to godliness, and to the Church, and to professing Christ- 
ians, and to religion, die utterly azmy. "And because 


Many, therefore, we are here and elsewhere taught, name 
the name of Christ, who really have not the Spirit of Christ. 
Many profess to love the Saviour who afterwards deny Him. 
Many having put their hands to the Gospel plough, look back, 
grow weary and sit down in indolent inactivity. Many having 


been for a time dispossessed of the spirit of selfishness and of 
worldhness, sweep out and garnish their hearts for its return — 
again welcome its presence, and are worse in their last state 
than they were in their first. They conform to the world. 
They live in pleasure. They yield themselves servants to sin. 
They profane that holy name by which they are called. They 
dishonor their character and their profession. They crucify 
the Son of God afresh, and put Him to an open shame. Such 
characters are reprobates. They are deceivers. They have no 
part nor lot in the matter. They shall come short of eternal 
life. They draw back to perdition. "My soul," says Christ, 
''shall have no pleasure in them,'" for "he," only, declares the 
same Redeemer, whose piety, and devotion, and consistency, and 
liberality, and activity, and love, "endure to the end shall be 

My dear friend, this is a plain and simple truth, but it is an 
awful one. "He that endures to the end." He that is faith- 
ful unto death. He whose love does not wax cold. He whose 
charity towards Christians, whose solicitude for sinners, whose 
activity in well-doing, whose zeal for God, whose hearty dis- 
charge of every Christian duty, whose holy walk and conver- 
sation in the world endure to the end. He, whose piety (of 
which these are the certain evidences) continues as long as 
God shall see fit to continue him in the world — he, and he only 
is the true Christian — and he and he only "shall be saved." 
This, remember, is the plain, authoritative, and unalterable 
declaration of Him, who was the author of our salvation, and 
who is to be our final Judge. And this judgment, is it not as 
reasonable as it is certain? It is. It commends itself to our 
understanding, and to our conscience. For as he who has 
commenced a journey can accomplish it only by persevering 
unto the end, even so, we can arrive at heaven only by pressing 
on in that way of holiness that leads to it until we reach its 
blessed portals, and are admitted within the celestial city. It 
should therefore be as unusual in fact as it is irrational in prin- 
ciple, for any man who has once been rescued from the power 
of sin, and experienced the happiness of a religious life, to be 
found turing back to the evil, and unsatisfying, and wicked 
course of an ungodly world. It should be a strange and 
unheard of occurrence, that with a title to heaven in his posses- 
sion, and the earnest of heaven in his soul, and deliverance from 
the wrath to come secured to him, any individual should be 
found so foolish and wicked as to draw back again to perdi- 

The truth that none but he who endures to the end can be 
saved, is therefore an awful one., because the sin of apostacy 
is so awfully aggravated. This truth is awful when it is 


brought to bear upon the practical character and conduct of 
professors of reHgion — awful my dear readers when applied to 
the examination of your own profession of piety. Some of 
you "liaz'e done well," but alas what now hinders you? Some 
of you have manifested a hopeful piety, and given promise of 
laborious usefulness in the Church of the living God, but alas, 
what has bewitched you? Angels rejoiced over you. Your 
minister was comforted with the thought that in you he would 
have a faithful and useful fellow laborer. The Church was 
gladdened by the hope that through your instrumentality, many 
others might be added to her from time to time, of such as 
should be saved. 

But as the case now is, angels may weep over your cold 
indifference. Your minister is bowed down as he mourns over 
the desolation of Zion, whilst you come not up to the help of 
the Lord. The Church is wounded by her professed friends. 
Her character and piety are evil spoken of through your 
neglect. And you, alas, may take up the lamentations of the 
poet and say, 

Hail ! holy Light ! in memory dwells, 

A vision of thine image bright. 
Of past and perished bliss it tells, 

When heaven poured radiance on my sight : 
The beauty of that vanished scene. 

My darkened eyes can never see, 
A dream of brightnes that has been. 

Is all that now remains to me ! 

Some of you, however, who are members of the Church, 
may possibly be the same now that you always were. Perhaps, 
however, this may be the case, because you were always covet- 
ous, selfish, illiberal, unacquainted with and uninterested in 
your fellow members, unemployed in any good word or work, 
prayerless, neglectful of your Bible, a cipher in the spiritual 
world, and one whose death, apart from the quota of your con- 
tribution or your interest in the temporalities of the Church, 
would be altogether without effect upon its spiritual interests. 
Your love, therefore, never having been warm cannot wax cold. 
Your spirituality and self-denying devotedness to the cause of 
Christ having never yet been commenced, cannot, of course, 
endure. You may never have loved God or the brethren, or 
the souls of men. You may never have crucified selfishness 
and mortified carnality. You may never have prayed in your 
closet or in your family. xA.nd you may therefore be, as a 
member of a Church in this city once told me, just the same 
now that you always were. But if so, how is it possible for 
you, my dear reader, to be saved? 


Am I speaking irrelevantly? Are there none in this Church 
Vv'hose condition I am describing? Are there many such? 
Who are they? Master is it I, who preach? Are there any 
such among these elders and deacons, who are engaged with 
Thy servant in Thy work? Are there any such among those 
Vvho are grown old as members of this Church — and are any 
of these fast hastening to the judgment without any real piety 
towards God? Are there any such among those who have 
more recently professed Thy name, and have any of these so 
soon turned again to the service of Satan and the world? 
Jesus ! Master, do Thou open our eyes that we may each one 
of us see and know the truth. Do Thou search and try, and 
discover to us our true character as it appears to Thy unerring 

"And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall 
wax cold." Where does not iniquity now abound? Whose 
love is not now cold? Who is enduring to the end? Who 
among us will be saved? Brethren, these are awful ques- 
tions — questions that bear hard upon our everlasting destinies. 

Where shall we find that love which is, as we have shown, 
the essential characteristic of true religion, the Spirit of Christ, 
and the first fruits of faith, when it is alive and not dead? 

Is it love to God? Do not the world and business, and their 
own indulgence take pre-eminence with many, so that they love 
and serve the creature more than the Creator, who is God over 
all, and blessed for ever. Is it love to Christ f Is not Christ 
unthought of by many until every demand of the world and self 
have been fully heard? Is it love to the Church? Do many 
ever attend its meetings? Do many fulfill their engagements 
to it? Do they pray for it? Do they pray in it? Do they 
unite with it in its efforts for the salvation of a lost and ruined 
world? Do all who share the privileges and blessings of the 
Church, punctually and liberally meet its various necessary 
expenses as well as chanties? Is it love to the brethren? Do 
many of you ever know their names? Have you ever entered 
their habitations ? Have you ever even welcomed them to your 
fellowship? Do you think as well of them as possible? Do 
you hide their faults? Do you bear with their infirmities? 
Do you defend their character when injured'' Do you advise 
with them when wrong? Do you meet together with them to 
pray, and to exhort, and to counsel? Is it love to your Pastor? 
Do you habitually pray for him? Do you remember his heavy 
burden, as bound with him to sustain it? Do you, as pure and 
undefiled religion before God and the Father, will and ought 
to do — do you visit the sick, the widow and the fatherless ? 
Do you protect the orphan? Do you relieve the necessitous? 
Do you counsel the young? Is it love to the souls of uncon- 


verted men? Do you ever admonish them? Do you ever try 
to win them to Christ ? Do you pray for them ? Do you put 
such tracts or books into their hands as might convince them 
of sin and lead them to Christ? Is it love to the Bible? Do 
you read it daily in precedence to the newspaper, or the works 
of literary taste and amusement, that you may know all its 
doctrines and all its duties ? 

Need I go on. Or are you already satisfied either that your 
love has never been what it ought to have been, or that it has 
waxed cold? Has your love, then, my Christian brother, 
waxed cold ? But why ? Is God less lovely now than He ever 
was? Is Christ less attractive? Is religion less interesting 
or less essential? Is sin less sinful? Is your soul less needy? 
Is hell less dreadful ? Is heaven less glorious ? or is the way of 
salvation less arduous? If they are not — if none of these 
things are so — then by your present character and conduct, do 
you not offend that God whose authority you have acknowl- 
edged ? Do you not dishonor that Saviour of whom you have 
professed yourself to be a disciple? Do you not injure that 
religion of which you are a witness and a representative ? Do 
you not aggravate your guilt which is already so sinful? Do 
you not come short of heaven ? Do you not venture on in the 
way that leads to hell? And have you not reason to fear that 
after all you may be "a cast-away?" one of whom Christ will 
say, "I never knew you." 

But even were the consequences not thus awful, let me ask 
you. Has not your happiness as well as your love decreased? 
Has not fear of conscience increased ? Has not that spirituality 
of mind, which is life and peace, vanished? Has not your 
engagement in piety cooled down to idle indifference? your 
hope of heaven become flickering, and your preparation for 
death most unsatisfactory? Alas, Brethren, the Bible is denied 
among us in every particular. Men do not believe that we are 
really required to be gospel Christians, and that we are there- 
fore to imitate our Lord. They do not believe that the world 
could possibly go on, if all men were to act upon pure and 
Christian motives, and up to a perfect Christian rule ; if they 
were to forgive and forget injuries ; if they were not to resent 
an affront ; and if in every case they would do unto others as 
they would have others do unto them. How many are there 
who appear really to believe that it is not right to be anxious 
about the future ; that riches in themselves are not a good 
thing; that the entrance into heaven is easier to the poor man; 
that we ought to return a tenth to God ; that it would bring a 
blessing, to give freely and largely to the poor, and to the 
cause of Christ. It is evident that in all these points the Bible 
is disbelieved, and is practically denied, and does not control 

12— Vol. v. 


or guide us in our habits and principles of life and society. 
Who is there who thinks first of what is right, and according 
to the pattern of Christ, and the will of God in what he is 
about to do, and not what is wise and expedient? Who seeks 
first the kingdom of God, and God's plan of righteousness, and 
trusts that all temporal good consequences will follow upon it? 
Who is there who thinks and abides only by the rule of what is 
right and commanded? We may almost answer in the words 
of Scripture, "There is none righteous, no not one." 

Now it has been not less forcibly than truly said, that "the 
nominal professor is the most hopeless character on earth. 
Before he assumed the name of Christ there was hope of him, 
that he would be impressed, convinced and converted by some 
of those discriminating discourses which point out the differ- 
ence between a regenerated and an unregenerated man ; those 
pungent appeals to his conscience, which are so often blessed 
in awakening "them that are without" — ^but now he is proof 
against all these. He is a professor, a church member, and 
with this as his shield, he wards off every arrow of conviction 
from his heart. These warnings, he says, are for the unprofes- 
sing, not for him. Quietly his conscience sleeps amidst all the 
thunders that roll from the pulpit, while the lightnings, carried 
off by the conductor of his profession, touch not his false hopes, 
and leave him amidst them all secure. He puts away from 
himself all the threatenings of the word, though they are 
pointed at him, and takes to himself all the privileges and con- 
solations of the righteous, though he enjoys none of them. If at 
any time the power of the deception begins to be shaken by the 
efforts of a half-awakened conscience, and there rises up a sus- 
picion, that he is not a truly religious man, Satan aids him to 
regain his delusive quietude by the usual suggestion, that he 
is a professor, a church member, and that though he is not 
perfect, he is not farther from being so than many others ; he 
only partakes of the general delusion of the times, and if he 
be wrong, who is right? Besides, what is he to do? He is a 
church member, and would he begin again ? Would he repent, 
believe, and be converted now? Such logic is generally suc- 
cessful, and the poor creature lies down again to sleep the sleep 
of death. Notwithstanding the great number of professing 
Christians which exist, and the great number of unconverted 
ones too, how rarely do we meet with any who were converted 
after they became profesors? How seldom do any such come 
to their pastors and express a fear, and follow it up. that the\ 
have never been truly changed. 

But extend your views to another world, and anticipate if 
you can, the consequences of self-deception, as they exist, and 
are perpetuated through Christianity. Bunyan. in his inimi- 


table allegory, the "Pilgrim's Progress," after representing the 
rejection of a false professor, called Ignorance, who had 
knocked at the portals of heaven, and asked admission, con- 
cludes his book with these awfully impressive words: "Then I 
saw that there ivas a zvay to hell, even from the gates of heaven, 
as luell as from the city of Destruction." 

A professor in hell ! Tremendous idea ! Horrifying 
thought! After spending his time on earth in the nominal 
communion of saints, to spend his eternity in the real fellow- 
ship of devils in hell ! After belonging to the society of God's 
people; joining in all their services and their privileges; trans- 
acting with them the business of his kingdom ; for him to be 
sent away into the prison of lost souls ! O how dreadful to be 
separated from the Church of God now, to pass under the sen- 
tence of excommunication, to be exscinded as a corrupt mem- 
ber of the body, and given over to Satan — but what is this to 
the sentence of excommunication from the Church triumphant, 
pronounced by Jesus Christ himself at the last day? O, to 
hear Him say, depart! Who does not feel the force of those 
impressive verses : 

Thou lovely chief of all my joys. 

Thou sovereign of my heart. 
How could I bear to hear thy voice, 

Pronounce the sound, depart? 

The thunder of that dismal word, 

Would so torment my ear, 
'T would tear my soul asunder. Lord, 

With most tormenting fears. 

O wretched state of deep despair. 

To see my God remove. 
And fix my doleful station where 

I could not taste his love. 

Would you, then, my dear reader, know whether or not you 
are a nominal professor, or a true disciple? There are tests 
for piety as well as for gold. Suppose you have a child who 
frequently disobeys your commands, and neglects the duties 
which you require of him ; yet, if this neglect and disobedience 
seem to proceed from thoughtlessness rather than from a rebel- 
lious disposition ; if he appears sincerely pentent, and every day 
comes and tells you with tears in his eyes, "Father, I love you, 
1 am sorry that I have done wrong; I am ashamed of myself, 
and wonder that you have patience to bear with me, and that 
you do not disinherit me ;" you would love and forgive such a 
child, and feel that there was hope of his reformation. But 
should your child say, or could you read the feeling in his 


heart, Father, I cannot love you ; I have never felt one emotion 
of love towards you, and I have no wish to obey your com- 
mands ; would you not say his case is hopeless ; there is nothing 
for me to work upon, no feeling, no affection, no desire to do 

The true Christian, then, is one who, when he offends his 
heavenly Father, or fails to do his duty towards Him, is filled 
with godly sorrow, working in him repentance not needed to 
be repented of; who goes to his God and his Saviour with 
humility and grief, confesses to Him all his sins, and seeks 
\ grace to enable him for the time to come to walk more worthy 
of his high calling in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

Again, suppose we perceive a number of children playing 
together in the street; we could not, without previous knowl- 
edge, determine who are their parents, or where are their 
homes. But let one of them receive an injury, or get into any 
trouble, and we learn who are his parents, for he immediately 
runs to them for relief. Thus it is with the Christian and the 
man of the world. While we observe them together, pursuing 
the same employment, and placed in the same circumstances, 
we may not be able at once to distinguish them. But let afflic- 
tions come upon them, and we are no longer at a loss. The 
man of the world seeks relief in earthly comforts, while the 
Christian flies to his heavenly Father, his refuge and support 
in the day of trouble, and seeks not more earnestly deliverance 
from his trials than a sanctified improvement of them, — that 
whereas, before he was afflicted he went astray, now he may 
karn God's law. 

Suppose again you wished to separate a quantity of brass 
and steel filings, mixed together in one vessel, how would you 
effect this separation? Apply a loadstone, and immediately 
every particle of iron will be attracted to it, while the brass 
remains behind. Thus if we see a company of true and false 
professors of religion, we may not be able to distinguish be- 
tween them. But let Christ come among them, and all sincere 
followers will be attracted towards Him, as the steel is drawn 
to the magnet, while those who have none of his spirit, will 
remain at a distance. And is not Christ here? Does He not 
stand among us as he did among the disciples when He said 
unto them, "Ivovest thou me?" And when the reply was, "Yea, 
Lord, thou knowest that I love Thee," what was our Saviour's 
answer? "Feed my sheep, feed my lambs." Even so does 
Christ walk among us, and looking into every bosom, say, 
■'professing Christian, lovest thou me." And when you would 
assure Him of your love, does He not say to you, "Feed my 
lambs, feed my sheep." "My son, my daughter, go thou into 
my vineyard and work." 

love: waxing cold. 181 

Such, then, are a few of the many tests by which you may 
ascertain the reaUty and the depth of that love to Christ, with- 
out which if any man is found, "let him," it is written, "be 
anathema and maranatha." 

Looking, then, into this glass, what manner of person do 
you find yourself. 

My brethren, put not away from you the warning voice. 
The waxing cold of Christian love is a disease to which every 
heart is prone. The heart of man is a backsliding heart. Its 
treasure is in Sodom, and it is ever looking back, and thirsting 
after it. 

This disease is also as deceitful as it is common, and as dan- 
gerous as it is deceitful. It is the consumiption of the soul. 
It comes on insensibly. It steals upon us gradually, and it 
flatters while it destroys. 

How should we then this day awake and call upon our God 

Saviour ! preserve within our hearts. 

The memory of our spousal day. 
Lest sin, by Satan's specious arts, 

Should steal our earlier love away. 

That earlier love our spirit felt. 

In visitation's soft'ning hour, 
Bidding our hearts before Thee melt. 

Our tongues confess Thy praise and power. 

When lur'd from joys of time and sense, 
Thou through the desert wast our Guide 

And gav'st us smiling gardens thence. 
By Thee with living streams supplied. 

The memory of those days renew 

Within our souls by grace divine. 
Lest, to ourselves and Thee untrue. 

Our fervid love toward Thee decline. 

If somewhat of its earlier zeal. 

The world unhappily have 'reft, 
Thy power and love once more reveal, 

To cherish that which still is left ; 

That we, by penitence sincere. 

May pardon for our fall obtain. 
And through Thy grace, in holy fear, 

May do our former works again. 

Lest Thou no longer shouldst reprove 

In mercy, or in pity plead ; 
But from its place our light remove, 

And leave our spirits dark indeed. 


Hebrews vi. 9. 

"But, beloved, we are persuaded better things of you, and things that accompany 
salvation, though we thus speak." 

Sincerity of regard is not inconsistent with the greatest faith- 
fulness in counsel. Rather would we say that, that friendship 
which is cemented by mutual flattery to the disguise and con- 
cealment of the truth, is false and dangerous. A real and 
deep-rooted attachment could never look on with indifference 
while danger approaches the object of its esteem. Instinct, 
were we ever destitute of reason, would raise an involuntary 
voice of warning and impel us forward to prevent the invading 
harm. And just in proportion to the imminency of the danger 
and the importance of the hazard, ought there to be felt an 
anxious concern for the alteration of any course which is lead- 
ing its reckless victim to an assuredly fatal termination. 

When, therefore, we contemplate the situation of those who 
are related to us by the ties of a common brotherhood — with 
whom we are conversant in all the civilities and the every-day 
business of life — and who are in the possession with us, of 
immortal souls which are almost forgotten and overlooked 
amid the bustling avocations of the world, and the engrossing 
wants of the body; when we look forward to that judgment- 
seat of Christ, before which we and they must all stand, where 
we must all render in an account of the deeds done in the body, 
and where these despised and neglected souls will assume an 
importance in view of eternal destiny, compared with which, a 
thousand worlds are but as the small dust of the balance; — 
v»'hen, my brethren, we duly consider these things, who is there, 
that has a heart "lighted by wisdom from on high," that can 
hold his peace? Who is there that does not feel with that pious 
and devoted mother in Israel, who, when dissuaded from such 
ardent devotion to the cause of her nation, exclaimed, "How 
can I bear to see the destruction of my kindred?" 

Such were, in an eminent degree, the feelings of the apostle 
Paul. This will be strikingly manifested from the considera- 
tion that, in the Epistle from which our text is taken, he is 
addressing believers, — "holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly 
calling," — as they are styled by him in the commencement of 
the second chapter. And yet, towards them, even considered 
as such, he indulged the most jealous anxiety, lest by any means 
they might become "cast-aways." "Let us, therefore," says 
he in the fourth chapter, "fear lest a promise being left us of 

PASTORAL Fidelity and af^i^ection. 183 

entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short" 
of it. In the seventh chapter, also, he breaks out into that 
fearfully awakening exhibition of the consequences of apostacy : 
"For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and 
have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of 
the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and 
the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away, to 
renew them again unto repentance, seeing they crucify to them- 
selves the Son of God afresh, and put Him to an open shame." 

In these, and the more frequent appeals made to the con- 
sciences of professing Christians in the latter part of his Epistle, 
the apostle is by no means to be charged with harshness, 
severity, or unkindness. There is in them no mingling of gall 
and wormwood for the mere purpose of terrifying into sub- 
mission, or for the mere exhibition of authority. They were 
the fond breathings of his most tender and anxious concern 
for their present and everlasting welfare. They were the deep 
burning emotions of the parent who rushed towards that child 
which has wandered to the verge of a precipice, and which, with 
all the violence of an almost despairing joy, she lifts into her 
arms and hurries from the scene. "But, beloved," adds the 
Apostle, in the words of our text, "we are persuaded better 
things of you, and things that accompany salvation, though 
we thus speak." 

I wish, my dear brethren, to make some inferences, founded 
upon this exhibition of the Apostle's united faithfulness and 
affection, corrective of some prevalent opinions detrimental to 
the interests of those who are hearers in the house of God, and 
which more especially impair the influence of him who is to 
preach, and detract essentially from his real usefulness. And, 
in the first place, I would most earnestly caution you against 
that opinion which allows the views of the hearer to terminate 
on the preacher himself — that view which would consider the 
whole service of worship, or at least, that part of it which con- 
sists in exhortation, as a business wholly to be conducted and 
settled between him who conducts it, and those to whom he 

I know of no barrier in the present day which more 
powerfully opposes the progress of the Gospel in the hearts 
of men, than this very supposition — a supposition which is the 
more fatally dangerous because it is so insidious. I know not 
that there is a single individual who sincerely believes that 
v^'hile met together in the house of God, we are engaged merely 
in a man-devised service, and yet when the hour of devotion 
is past and the message of God has been communicated, and 
you leave that house, what, let me candidly ask, what is the 
practical exhibition too frequently given of the real estimate 


of the character of the service. Do I misrepresent the facts, 
my dear friend, when I say that the only notice generally given 
to the sermon heard is either an encomium of approbation or 
a fault-finding criticism of censure. Is it not the man and the 
manner and the language, rather than the subject and the 
urgent necesity of its application to yourself, that engross your 
observation? Thus is the preacher transformed into a mere 
casuist or rhetorical declaimer, and while he, as powerfully as 
he can, aims at your conscience and your heart the thrusts of 
the sword of the Spirit, you are, with still greater skilfulness, 
employed in parrying its strokes. 

Either, my friend, the ofifice of the ministry is a mockery, a 
cunning devised effort for priestcraft and power, as it is too 
often slanderously depicted, or there is attached to it an author- 
ity higher and more sacred than itself, even that authority 
which is the supreme prerogative of Jehovah and of His 
Christ — of whom every faithful minister is an ambassador to 
men. There is no middle ground of neutrality upon which 
other opinions may be erected. If this matter be not of men 
it is of God, and the indulgence of a spirit of captious criticism, 
and resisting indifference is, in so far as the truths declared are 
in accordance with the word of God a quarrelling, not with a 
fellow-creature, but with Him whom he proclaims, even with 
that God in whose name he beseeches sinners to be reconciled 
and saved. "He that despiseth you," says the apostle, "de- 
spiseth not man but God." 

It is, therefore, against the practical influence of this opinion 
and not against that speculative view of it which is maintained 
by the avowed rejector of Revelation, that I now contend, and 
against which I would imploringly exhort you to be warned. 

The consequences which flow from this delusion will suffi- 
ciently declare its dangerous tendency. To the individual who 
allows such an opinion to have an ascendancy over his heart, 
the truths that are inculcated from the pulpit will depend, for 
their value and their importance, not so much upon the sanc- 
tions of Scripture, as upon the strength of the reasoning em- 
ployed in their defence — upon the force of the illustration, and 
upon the eloquence of those sounds by which they are conveyed 
to the ear. Unless the truth comes brightened and ethereal like 
the spear of Uriel, or wafted in the music of an angel's melody, 
it ceases to produce its legitimate effect ; the passions move not, 
the heart responds not, and the understanding yields not. 

Another consequence of such an inadequate view of the 
authoritative character of the ministry, is that the warnings 
that it feels called upon to utter, are regarded as flowing only 
from the preacher as an individual. If, therefore, they are 
delivered in a manner which may be construed into indiffer- 


ence — if there can by possibility be attached to the speaker a 
charge of insincerity — or if there is made by him the sHghtest 
ruffling of that uneasy fretfulness which harasses the sinner, 
or the most incidental breach of that indiscriminating attention 
to the feelings of others which is termed liberality, and which, 
if carried out into practice, in circumstances to admit the appli- 
cation, would, were an armed enemy in our country, cry out 
against the attempt to resist or to oppose him ; in all such cases 
it is deemed perfectly allowable to despise, reject, and even 
throw such warnings back in disdain. It is altogether for- 
gotten, amidst this tumult of wounded feeling, that however 
unpalatable in their delivery, such warnings are the lightning 
of Heaven, and must scathe, — the utterances of Jehovah, and 
must be heard ; and that they are the erected beacons of God's 
mercy, which if not attended to, will leave us exposed to the 
merciless raging of that frightful ocean which rolls on in the 
eternity beyond. 

In the same way is it, and as a consequence of the same 
opinion, that the reality of those eternal things to which the 
preacher attests, the truth of those doctrines and the necessity 
of those precepts he inculcates, are thought to be decided by 
that appearance of rationality, that agreement to our precon- 
ceived notions, and that coincidence with whatever laxity of 
views we may entertain, which will render them palatable to 
this diseased appetite of the soul. 

"Let it then be remembered," to use the language of another, 
"that the true preacher of the Gospel, is neither the property 
of the Church, nor the hireling and servant of the world, so as 
to be at the disposal of the one, or accountable to the other. 
He is the property of God, and the servant of Jesus Christ, 
and to him alone he is accountable, and for his sovereign dis- 
posal alone he stands ready. He has one Master, and one 
only. The ministry is no more the property of the Church 
than the Church is the property of the ministry. If the preacher 
is a Christian, then he has within himself the enlightened con- 
science as well as any one of his fellow Christians, and the 
unction from the Holy One ; and having besides a more perfect 
knowledge of the revealed will of God, he must surely know, 
if any body, how to direct his course ; and he will be judged in 
the great day of account according to his otmi conscience, and 
not according to the conscience of the Church or of the whole 
world. No engagement, no human authority can disannul his 
accountability to God. 

"Much less is he the hireling of his congregation. His wages 
are not a pay for his services. His services are not capable of 
being paid. He is only supported, fed and clothed, according 


to the dictates of the Bible. He hoards up no money. He is 
a stranger and a pilgrim in the earth. He gathers up nothing 
for himself. He is an ambassador from the King of kings 
to his subjects, and the support they give him whilst among 
them is no adequate pay for his services, and brings him into 
no accountability to them, so far as the subject of his mission 
is concerned. He remains accountable to his Lord and King. 
They have indeed a right to judge whether his credentials are 
true or false ; and if the credentials are true, they may decide 
still whether they will receive him or not ; they have the right 
of receiving and refusing, just as a sick man also has with 
regard to his physician. Theirs is the right to choose and to 
refuse at any time, and theirs will be the consequences, either 
good or bad. But the preacher of the Gospel is no performer ; 
he aims not at the approbation of the people, but at the appro- 
bation of God. 

"Hence it is plain that those who think that it is the 
preacher's duty to please and satisfy them, are laboring under 
a fundamental mistake. His object is not, and cannot be, to 
please them, but to please God by savi>ig them. He has a mes- 
sage which must be delivered, whether they will hear, or 
whether they will forbear. Flattery is the thing of all others 
the farthest from him. He indeed often receives the blessed 
communication, 'Comfort ye, comfort ye my people ! speak ye 
comrortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare 
is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned;' and he rejoices, 
that the Lord hath given him 'the tongue of the learned,' that 
he 'should know how to speak a word in season to him that is 
weary.' But often, too, he hears a voice from heaven, saying, 
'Cry aloud! spare not! lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and 
show my people their transgressions, and the house of Jacob 
their sins,' and he will answer, 'Truly, I dm full of power by 
the spirit of the Lord, and of judgment, and of might, to 
declare unto Jacob his transgression, and to Israel his sin.' 
And thus he goes on, regardless of the rank, taste or wishes 
of his hearers, and of his own interests. Reckless of popu- 
larity, reputation, or comforts, he will proclaim the truth 
plainly and boldly. In common life he is the willing, humble 
servant of all men ; and of all men most defenceless and unpro- 
tected, and ready to receive instruction and reproof from a 
little child. But his message in the sanctuary rolls over 
crowned and anointed heads ; the king and the slave are alike 
unto him, and with a faithful and vmsparing hand he will 
humble them alike into the dust. The unlettered man and the 
wise shall bow to the wisdom of God, and the weak and the 
strong together shall tremble at his power. Out of the pulpit 


the preacher knows no man below, and in the pulpit he knows 
none above him."* 

But there is ? still more extraordinary obliquity of judg- 
ment to which the sentiment I have been controverting leads, 
when instead of resting the truth of what the preacher says, 
upon their own offered evidence, that is, upon the testimony 
and authority of God, they are made to stand or fall, with the 
imcertain and sandy foundation of man's example. This is a 
most fallacious, a most unphilosophical, and a most dangerous 
mode of judgment. Is it not plain, that a mathematician might 
demonstrate the whole theory of navigation, and as it regards 
any particular voyage, point out the proper course with exact- 
ness, and expatiate too upon the most probable occurrence of 
winds and tides, and yet be a very bad Philosopher when 
brought to experimental proof. Might not another delineate 
the whole plan of a fortification, and the best mode for its 
defence, and yet in actual warfare be a coward? Might not 
a third understand skillfuly the whole science of medicine, and 
when himself in danger, be found a very bad practitioner? 
And in the same way is not not altogether possible for a man 
to be learned in the doctrines, and even the orthodoxy of our 
faith, and yet in his practical conduct be an utter stranger to 
its power. May not such characters even assume the prophet's 
chair and become instructors of others? They may — they 
have! "All, therefore," says our Saviour of the Pharisees, 
"whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do ; but 
do not ye after their works, for they say and do not." 

I might even go farther in the progress of our argument 
towards demonstration, and say that the real Christian, and 
even the devoted minister whose language is the faithful copy 
of their hearts' sincere belief, may be permitted — as they have 
been permitted by Him who alone upholds them, and in whose 
grace alone they stand — to fall from their steadfast profession, 
into the commission of those things that are in open violation 
of the holy gospel they profess. 

The personal example of a Christian professor, or a minister, 
though of supreme importance to the salvation of himself and 
others, and to their own general and lasting influence — is not, 
and ought not therefore to be, the standard by which the mes- 
sage and the doctrines of the gospel are to be decided. I do 
not in so saying apologize for unfaithfulness, or excuse, or 
palliate error either in the ministry or out of it. But I do feel 
for the honor of that Master whom I serve, — ^that Saviour 
whom I preach, — that Gospel I make known — that pure, and 
holy, and spotless morality it prescribes, — that unblameable 



walk and conversation it demands — that holy maturity in grace 
to which it leads — and knowing as I too well do, the weakness, 
the infirmity, and the fallibility of man, I am unwilling to rest 
in any degree the judgment of the perfection of our glorious 
faith, upon such an unwarrantable ground. I pray you, there- 
fore, look from the servants to Christ the Master, and be guided 
not by their example except in so far as it is moulded by grace 
into the likeness of Him. We, as ministers, preach not our- 
selves, but Christ Jesus, and Him crucified. In ourselves we 
are nothing, and less than nothing. He alone is our pattern, 
and alone worthy of imitation. And should it therefore be 
found necessary in the wise and yet mysterious Providence of 
God — which may grace prevent — ^that any minister or disciple 
who has been known to you, should be left to fall away from 
his steadfastness, remember the words which I have now 
spoken unto you, and while you condemn the individual, let not 
the shadow of suspicion rest upon the purity and the truth of 
that glorious Gospel of the blessed God, which standeth not 
upon the conduct of men, but is the power of God to the sal- 
vation of every one that believeth. 

There are two other, and we fear too commonly indulged 
mistakes, to which it was my intention particularly to direct 
you. As I have unavoidably enlarged upon the preceding dis- 
cussion, I can at present do little more than briefly mention 

The first is indulged in by professed believers ; and in refer- 
ence to it, I would, in an especial manner, entreat the attention 
of such. That natural desire of happiness which so powerfully 
actuates every human being, is no less urgent in the sanctified 
heart. And there is very apt to be generated in such a mind 
a morbid appetite, which will only be satisfied with the luxuries 
of Gospel truth. There is an anxiety that the preacher should 
employ himself either in pouring over the soul a flood of com- 
fort, consolation and joy, or in bringing the artillery of heaven 
to bear with exclusive force upon the unconverted. Many will 
melt into tenderness under the glowing representation of pres- 
ent comfort, and of the coming time of future blessedness. 
They will be warmed up to a prayerful anxiety for the success 
of those pungent appeals which are addressed to the sinner's 
conscience. But when the language of warning, of exhorta- 
tion, of faithfulness, or it may be of necessary rebuke, is with 
pointed earnestness, directed to themselves, — when the preacher 
would awake them to the discharge of some neglected or par- 
tially fulfilled duty, — when he would thus, like the Apostle, 
sound in their ear the trumpet of alarm, call them to arms, 
rouse them from their cold and sleepy indifference, and expose 
to them the imminent danger that threatens, the insidious foe 


that waits in ambush to surprise, or the inroads which the 
enemy has already made upon the territory of truth, — in such 
a case, tell me, my dear friend, whether you have never felt 
ready to attach to him who thus speaks to you a suspicious 
disposition, and a harsh and unfeeling disregard. Have you 
not regarded him as attributing to you hypocrisy, as making 
insinuations severe and inapplicable, or as speaking without 
a just consideration of the difficulties of your case. Now, my 
dear friend, your inference, when it is so made, is not neces- 
sarily, nor is it generally true. It is not the province nor the 
wish of the ministers, to pass a single sentence of authoritative 
judgment upon your heart. Thank God this is not our office. 
We do not sit in judgment upon you. We know, however, 
that through the desperate deceitfulness of the human heart — 
you may be deceived in your profession of discipleship. And 
while this fact is so darkly figured before our view, it is impos- 
sible for us to discover the inward working of your minds, — 
their real and influencing motives, — their true principles of 
action, — how much of habit or of custom there may be in those 
external manifestations of piety which are given by you, and 
how much they may be the mere creature of circumstances. 
We are, therefore, unwilling, and are we not under solemn 
obligation to the God of heaven that we should be so ? — we are 
unwilling, I say, that there should exist any possibility of 
deception, or that any should go down to the grave with a lie 
in their right hands. We hold up, therefore, to your view the 
faithful mirror of the Gospel, that afar from the breathing 
influence of flattery, or self-gratulation, and as in the presence 
of Him by whom you are to be adjudged, or you may behold 
yourselves, — look upon your spiritual countenance as it is there 
drawn, — and this impartially decide what manner of persons 
ye are. 

My brethren, judge aright in this matter. Even while duty 
m.ay compel me to speak in severity, love will inspire my 
motives, afifection fill my soul, and hope animate my bosom. 
Yea, I will hope better things of you, and things accompanying 
salvation, though I thus speak. 

Let me, therefore, nozv in this spirit of affection, once more 
remind you that a profesion of religion is not the possession 
of sincere piety. You may do much — give much — believe 
much — hope much, and yet not be Christians. There are, I 
well know, a large catalogue of names in the roll-book of the 
visible Church. But, oh, I too much fear, that out of this 
assembled number of professed citizens of Heaven, but a small 
portion will be chosen to the dignity and invested with the 
privileges of citizens. "Many are called, but few chosen." 


"Examine, therefore, yourselves. Prove your own selves. 
Know ye not that Christ is in you except ye be reprobates." 

I again, therefore, remind my brethren of the responsi- 

WHICH God is carrying on with the empire of darkness 
AND OF sin. "The language used respecting the inhabitants 
of Meroz, shows that God held them responsible for the volun- 
tary service which they might have rendered, although they 
could have said, with as much propriety as the same apology 
is ever made now, that He did not need their help. The event 
proved that He could accomplish the deliverance of Israel with- 
out them ; but the question was virtually put — who is on the 
Lord's side? His cause was suffering, and an effort was 
iibout to be made to rescue it from reproach, and the circum- 
stances were such as to require all the energies and resources 
of the nation. Neutrality was, therefore, inadmissible. No 
one knew but that the want of his presence and influence, might 
discourage others, and thus materially embarrass, if not defeat, 
the success of the whole enterprise. 

"Those who decline making sacrifices, and rendering per- 
sonal services on special occasions, generally allege the claim 
of their own business, as the reason. But it often happens 
that others similarly situated, act differently without appearing 
to suffer by it. The tribe of Dan pretended that their shipping 
business required their attention ; but that of Zebulon was also 
located on the sea coast, and engaged in similar pursuits ; yet 
they left their business and exerted all their influence in favor 
of the cause of God and their country, some handling the pen 
of the writer, and others jeopardizing their lives in the high 
places of the field. Our practical judgments upon subjects 
of this nature generally depend upon the state of our hear*ts. 
Christians, in one state of feeling, act very differently from 
what they do in another state of feeling. Again, some feel 
as if the greatest temporal concerns were very little matters 
compared to the salvation of souls ; while by others, the salva- 
tion of souls and the honor of God, the songs of heaven and 
the wailings of hell, appear to be lost sight of and forgotten 
in the all-absorbing pursuits of worldly gain !"* 

But I have a word to say to my unconverted hearers, and 
necessity will make it brief. 

What I have already said will apply equally to them. But 
they are liable to another and a still greater mistake. For I 
fear, that in too many cases, the address of the minister to 
them is with little self-compunction, accounted for by the exist- 
ence of a spirit of bigotry, or of personal ill-will. It is 

*Rev. Mr. Walton, 


attributed to misanthropy — ^to that proud spirit of proselytism 
and eager desire to swell the number of his people, which is 
supposed to actuate him — or to his ambition, his wild enthusi- 
asm, and his overhearted imagination. The sinner in one or 
other of these, or in other ways, erects a wall of defence be- 
tween himself and the preacher, behind which he remains in 
security, and against which every missile falls harmless and 
ineffectual ; while, on the other hand, he can with too fatal ease 
retaliate an injury. 

Remember, dear friends, that I speak not of myself. I judge 
not. I condemn not. I make no Hell. I wish none there. 
Would to God that none would there incarcerate themselves. 

"To the Law and to the Testimony," if I speak not according 
to these, it is because there is no truth in me. But woe is unto 
me, if I preach not the Gospel. I must watch for souls as 
they who must give an account. At my hands, if I warn you 
not, will your blood be required. 

I stand in that narrow pass which separates time from eter- 
nity. I look out on the one hand upon the region of despair, 
and on the other upon the green fields of Paradise, and as an 
ambassador for Jesus, I most beseechingly call upon you, as 
though God did beseech you by me to be reconciled to God. 
Flee from that wrath that is to come, and betake yourselves 
to that refuge that is opened for you in the Gospel. Suppose 
not, however, that I make any imputation upon your character. 
As men, and as fellow men, I honor you where honor is due. 
I love, I admire, I esteem you. Your character before the 
world may be emblazoned. It may to the eye of observation 
be spotless as the sun in his glory. Your moral honesty, your 
uprightness, your honesty, may be unimpeached. And even 
while I call upon you to seek the good part which cannot be 
taken from you, and while I warn you that it is a light matter 
to be judged of man's judginent — even while I repeat in your 
hearing the threatenings of the Lord, and the denunciations 
of his word against the wicked — I hope better things of you. 
1 travail in pain until Christ be formed within you the hope 
of Glory. And my heart's desire and prayer to God for you 
is that you may be saved. He that beeiEvETh shall be 






Free Church of Scotland 













13— Vol. v. 


Having^ through the kindness of a friend, obtained a reading 
of the following Discourse, and having perused it with much 
pleasure, I have thought its republication would not be unac- 
ceptable to the friends of the Free Church at home, and might 
be of some service. Many are the excellent publications, of 
various kinds, to which the Disruption has given origin. The 
present is not the least interesting. The Rev. Dr. Duff has 
sent forth a stirring voice from the Eastern World, — Dr. 
Smyth responds to it with as hearty an utterance from the 
Western. Such publications are far more valuable than their 
intrinsic size at first seems to betoken. 

It is not only matter of interesting curiosity to men at home 
to see what points in the great revolution strike the eye, and 
impress the heart, of intelligent men most in foreign lands ; 
but these thoughts are fitted to awaken new trains of ideas in 
our minds. Then, such publications proclaim the substantial 
unity of the Evangelical Church of Christ throughout the 
world. It is the taunt of Popery, as well as of Infidelity, that 
because there is external diversity — in other words, the absence 
of uniformity — there is therefore no unity. The warmth of 
the sympathy, however, with the Free Church, on the part of 
all evangelical communities in distant lands, though in some 
respects differing from her and from each other, is a striking 
proof of union — of a greater amount of real union than the 
Church of Rome, with all her external uniformity, can boast of. 
This is an important lesson at the present day. 

Next, such expressions of sympathy, in behalf of a suffering 
Church, naturally leads to greater knowledge on both sides, and 
this again conduces to enlarged sympathy and increased mutual 
prayer among the Churches of Christ — no small matter in these 

Meanwhile, such a testimony as the present is fitted to be 
useful at home, even to those who are hostile to the claims of 
the Free Church. A voice from the other side of the Atlantic 
(when, as in the present case, accurate in point of fact) is more 
likely to be listened to, than the same voice nearer home. The 
testimony is supposed to be less prejudiced, and more impartial. 
It is certain, that one living at a distance, if fully alive to the 
importance, as well as the facts of the case, is less disturbed by 
local feelings, and, in so far, is in better circumstances to form 
a comprehensive and accurate estimate of the whole. 


Independently of the merits of the Discourse, and the inter- 
esting occasion of its being preached at the request of the 
leading men of seven different evangelical denominations in 
Charleston, and the use which has been made of it since to 
promote the cause of the Free Church, there is to every sound- 
hearted Presbyterian an additional charm in the circumstance, 
that the author is a leading writer on behalf of Presbyterian 
Church government in the United States at the present day, 
and a successful antagonist of reviving Popery. While this 
adds to the interest of many of his readers here, doubtless, on 
the other hand, the spirit, and proceedings, and attainments 
of the Free Church since the crisis became serious, as well as 
subsequent to the Disruption, have imparted fresh animation 
to all the friends of Presbytery. Certain it is, that no friend 
of that form of ecclesiastical rule could desire a finer manifes- 
tation of united strength, combined with individual prompti- 
tude and energy, than the Free Presbyterian Church of Scot- 
land has displayed during the last twelve months. There can 
be little question that, under God, the magnificent result has 
been partly indebted to the form of government under which 
the Free Church is organized. It has been customary, in 
former times, to complain of the tardiness and unwieldiness of 
Presbyterian Church courts, compared with the rapid action of 
other kinds of government; but it is apprehended that this 
reproach, if ever well-founded, is now entirely removed. It 
will be difficult to point to any organized body whose move- 
ments, in times of trial and calamity, have been so rapid, and 
united, and comprehensive, as those of that Church whose 
claims Dr. Smyth so eloquently advocates. How strange, that 
a government so excellent, as experience proves Presbytery to 
be, should be so much hated in all ages, and that its adherents 
should, among christian bodies, be so extensive sufferers ! 
Does not this resemblance to the King of sufferers indicate, 
that it is disliked because it holds so strongly His truth — be- 
cause it is the representative of Christ's rule, as well as the 
maintainer of His doctrine? 


Glasgow, January 15, 1844. 




Charleston, November 6, 1843. 
Reverend and Dear Sir, 

At a meeting of the Committee appointed at the Depos- 
itory to act as Collectors after the delivery of your Sermon, 
yesterday evening, on "The Claims of the Free Church of Scot- 
land to the Sympathy and Assistance of American Christians," 
it was unanimously resolved to tender to you the thanks of the 
Committee for the very able, interesting, and eloquent address 
delivered by you on the occasion, and to solicit from you a 
copy of it for publication; and the undersigned members of the 
Committee to carry out and publish the proceedings, were 
charged with the performance of this grateful duty. 

Permit us, Rev. and Dear Sir, to submit this resolution to 
you, and to beg your compliance with it. We are deeply per- 
suaded that your Discourse, if printed and generally distrib- 
uted, would do more, much more, to inform the public mind on 
the subject of it, than any thing that has yet issued from our 
press, and may do very much to rouse the sympathies of our 
fellow-citizens throughout the Union, to promote the object to 
which it is dedicated. 

We are, with the highest respect, 
Rev. and Dear Sir, 

Your very obedient Servants, 
Thomas Smyth, D. D. 

Charleston, November 8, 1843. 

As I am induced to believe that the true character of the 
Free Church of Scotland, and of the principles for which she 
is now a witness, are not generally understood or properly 
appreciated, I cannot but comply with your request to publish 


the Discourse I delivered on Sabbath evening last, upon "The 
Claims of the Free Church of Scotland to the Sympathy and 
Assistance of American Christians." I trust that it may be, 
in some measure, instrumental in commending that glorious 
Church to the hearts of American Christians, and the deepening 
their attachment to those principles, upon which their own civil 
and religious liberty are based. — With this hope I remain, 

Most respectfully and truly, 
Yours in the Lord, 

To the 
Hon. M. King. 
Hon. R. B. Gilchrist. 
Charles Edmonston, Esq. 
Henry BaieEy, Esq. 
Andrew Moffett, Esq. 

At the same meeting of the General Committee, it was unani- 
mously Resolved, — 

That the Sermon, when published, be circulated under the 
direction and at the discretion of the Sub-Committee; and 
especially that it be forwarded to Protestant clergymen, with 
the request that they bring the subject under the consideration 
of their respective congregations, and do what may be in their 
power to aid the cause. 







While the author was preparing to address his own congre- 
gation upon the claims of the Free Church of Scotland, to their 
sympathy and assistance, he received communications from 
several gentlemen of other churches, expressing their desire to 
unite in giving some public manifestation of our cordial appro- 
bation of the principles and course of that body of fellow- 
christians. It was determined, therefore, to call a meeting of 
those gentlemen who are friendly to the object, for mutual con- 
ference. By a public notice, a meeting of gentlemen who 
approved of the principles and course of the Free Church of 
Scotland, was accordingly held in the Depository, on Tuesday 
evening, 31st October, when it was found that members from 
seven different Churches in the City were present. 

On motion, the Hon. Mitche;li. King took the Chair, and 
Henry Bailey, Esq., was appointed Secretary. The Chair- 
man introduced the subject for which the meeting was con- 
vened, by a historical review of the character and conduct of 
the church of Scotland, so as to make it apparent that the 
principles contended for by the present Free Church, had 
always been maintained by that Church, either with the sanc- 
tion of the State, or in persecution and distress. He was 
followed by the Attorney General, H. Bailey, Esq., in an expo- 
sition of the grounds upon which the Free Church of Scotland 
claims the sympathy and assistance of American Christians. 
The meeting was futher addressed by Charles Edmonston, 
Esq., and by the Rev. Dr. Smyth, Dr. Palmer, Dr. Curtis, Mr. 
Gildersleeve and others. It was then 

Resolved, That the Rev. Thomas Smyth, D. D., be re- 
quested to deliver a discourse, on the claims of the Free Church 
of Scotland to the sympathy and assistance of American Chris- 
tians, on Sabbath evening next, in the Circular Church, which 
has been kindly granted for the occasion, and that after the 
discourse a collection be taken up to assist the Free Church in 
her present exigency, in providing Churches for the seven 
hundred and eighty congregations which have already adhered 
to her. 

The following gentlemen were appointed as Collectors on 
that occasion, — five of whom, with the Rev. Dr. Smyth, were 
named as a Committee to carry out and publish the proceedings 
of the meeting; also to secure, as far as possible the co-opera- 
tion of the pastors of our different churches, in presenting the 
subject to their respective congregations ; and further, to ad- 
dress a circular to others throughout the State, with a view to 
secure further contributions. 


The Honourable the Mayor, the Hon. Mitchell King, the 
Hon. R. B. Gilchrist, Charles Edmonston, Esq., Henry Bailey, 
Esq., H. W. Peronneau, Esq., H. A. Desaussure, Esq., Andrew 
Moffett, Esq., James Adger, Esq., F. H. Elmore, Esq., Dr. M. 
T. Mendenhall, Samuel J. Wagner, Esq., F. R. Schackelford, 
Esq., Aaron C. Smith, Esq., William Kirkwood, Esq., G. M. 
Keils, Esq., Donald Mackintosh, Esq. 

These collectors, who all cheerfully consented to act, are 
members of ten different churches in this city, and of seven 
denominations. While, therefore, the cause, which brought 
together the very large and respectable audience who listened 
to this discourse, was glorious, the assembly was itself, one of 
the most interesting ever witnessed. It was a living exempli- 
fication of the unity of protestants in the great fundamental 
truths of Christianity. Here, on the common basis of great 
and essential principles, the members of ten different churches 
could harmoniously meet, rejoice, and co-operate. One heart 
and one mind seemed to pervade every bosom while with 
earnest prayer, devout thanksgiving, and tender sympathy, they 
listened to the wrongs, the sufferings, and the triumphant 
progress of the Free Church of Scotland. It was thus shown, 
that this great event, — the establishment of that church, — is 
designed by God, to break down the walls of sectarian jealousy 
and estrangement, and to concentrate the strength of protestant 
Christendom in opposition to "the powers of darkness," and in 
furtherance of the cause of truth and righteousness. Co-opER- 


BOTH POSSIBLE AND PRACTICABLE. The foundation of the Free 
Church of Scotland, and its utter renunciation of all the bigoted 
and exclusive views which prevented free intercourse and com- 
munion among all true hearted christians of every name, we 
regard as the first link in that golden chain which is to bind 
together in one body, all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in 
sincerity and truth, "till we all come, in the unity of the faith 
and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, 
unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 

In the following discourse, it was designed to give a compre- 
hensive view of the principles for which the Free Church of 
Scotland has contended, and the grounds upon which she may 
reasonably expect the cordial assistance of christians in 
America. Every available source of information has been 
sought, and freely used. A faithful digest of such informa- 
tion, — not originality, — is what has been aimed at. The dis- 
course is sent forth to the public to extend knowledge, awaken 
sympathy, and call forth liberality. If it shall, in any measure, 
accomplish these ends, it will have fulfilled its mission, and the 
author secured his reward. 

Charleston, S. C, November 8, 1843. 


2 Cor. viii. 1-4. 

"Moreover, brethren, we do you to wit of the grace of God bestowed on 
the churches of Macedonia ; how that in a great trial of affliction the 
abundance of their joy and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of 
their liberality. For to their power, I bear record, yea, and beyond their 
power they were willing of themselves ; praying us with much entreaty that 
we would receive the gift, and take upon us the fellowship of the minister- 
ing to the saints." 

The substance of this passage of Scripture is this. The 
churches planted by the apostles in Macedonia, at Philippi, 
Thessalonica, Beroea and other places, had been led, by the influ- 
ence of God's grace, to raise a most liberal and generous contri- 
bution for the poor saints in Judea, who had been called to 
suffer bitter persecution. This generosity on the part of these 
churches was the greater, because they were themselves the 
victims of persecution, and in circumstances of poverty. But 
so great was their love to Christ and to their christian brethren, 
that, indigent as they were, they had done wonders for the 
relief of their yet poorer brethren. Not only were they willing 
to assist them when urgently solicited ; they were willing of 
themselves, without any solicitation, to render them the most 
generous assistance, giving not only according to their ability, 
but even beyond, what on any usual principles of calculation, 
could have been regarded as within their power. Nay further, 
having prepared their contribution, they entreated the apostles 
with much importunity, that they would receive the gift and 
convey it to their needy and suffering brethren. Such is Chris- 
tianity, and the working of christian principles, upon the other- 
wise cold and selfish heart of man. Behold here a picture of 
primitive piety, a living exemplfication of the spirit and power 
of the gospel. The church of God was then found to be what 
it is represented in scripture, one body. Unity and sympathy 
were characteristic of all its parts. If one member of the body 
suffered, the others sympathized with it; if one prospered all 
rejoiced. Christians lived and prayed and laboured, not for 
their own local interests, but for the advancement of the com- 
mon cause, and were, therefore, ready to communicate and 
willing to distribute, in order to relieve the necessities of the 

We are thus taught that it is no new thing for the christians 
of one land to make an appeal to christians of other lands, and 


to receive their willing assistance in a season of pressing neces- 
sity. Such sympathy is as old as Christianity itself, and one 
of those blessed fruits which grow upon this tree of life. The 
apostle, therefore, under the guidance of inspiration, has re- 
corded this exercise of charity for our example; commended 
it to our imitation ; and made it a constant memento and guide 
in all periods of the church. What was true in principle of the 
church then, is true now, and what was duty then is duty now. 
Christ, having purchased eternal redemption for mankind, has 
built his church upon this common foundation. He has thus 
taught us, that as mankind are one family in Christ, so is his 
church the great representative of our ransomed race, and 
entrusted, for the general benefit of all, with the manifold 
blessings of salvation. And that church of people, therefore, 
that settles down upon the basis of a selfish or sectional charity, 
or monopolises to itself the gifts and graces of the Spirit and 
the privileges of the church, is not a witness for the truth as it 
is in Jesus, but is a witness for schism, disunion, bigotry, and 
uncharitableness, which are all contrary to the will of God, to 
the prayer of Christ, to the spirit and requirements of the 
gospel, and to that one great atonement on which Christ 
founded his church and kingdom. Therefore, my beloved 
brethren, whom I now address, as ye would abound in every 
thing, — in faith and utterance and knowledge, and in all dili- 
gence, and in love to Christ, see that ye abound also in this 
grace of christian liberality. 

And most assuredly since the day in which the apostle com- 
mended to his Macedonian friends the claims for their brethren 
in Judea, a more worthy opportunity has not been afforded for 
the exercise of this grace of liberality, than in the appeal now 
made to the christians of America on behalf of the Free Pro- 
testing Church of Scotland, and which it is my privilege to 
bring before you. 

You are all aware that in May last, a very large body of min- 
isters and elders separated from the established church of 
Scotland,* gave up their churches, benefices, salaries, and pre- 
ferments, and depending altogether upon the blessing of God, 
the assistance of the people who might adhere to them, and, in 
their present emergency, upon the liberality of christians in 
other lands, have constituted themselves into the Free Protest- 

*It will be borne in mind, that Scotland and England having been sep- 
arate kingdoms at the time of the reformation, a difference of circumstances 
in the two countries led to a difference of views on the subject of 
religion, and at last to different establishments, so that when these king- 
doms were united, in 1707, they agreed that Episcopacy should continue to 
be established religion in England, while Presbyterianism should be the 
only established religion in Scotland, and, the Presbyterian Church enjoj' in 
Scotland all the rights and privileges for which she had ever contended. 

p"re;e; church of Scotland. 203 

ing Church of Scotland. Up to July last, the number of min- 
isters who have thus separated was as follows : 

The number who signed the act of separation in May, 386 

The number who signed the supplementary deed, 25 

Additional adherents before the Assembly arose, 48 

Additional adherents since the rising of the Assembly, 10 

Total number of ministers, _ _ _ 469 

A memorial was also presented to the Assembly of the Free 
Church from nearly two hundred probationers, that is, young 
ministers who had not yet been settled over any church, ex- 
pressing their entire concurrence in those high and holy prin- 
ciples, in vindication of which their fathers had deemed it their 
solemn duty to renounce connexion with the established church 
of the land. It was further stated to the Assembly, that 
ninety-three of the theological students at the Edinburgh Hall, a 
majority of those at St. Andrew's, four-fifths of those in Glas- 
gow, and a majority of those in Aberdeen, had declared them- 
selves in favour of the Protesting Church, and that a similar 
spirit was manifesting itself in the lower classes of students at 
these several universities.* Nor have these ministers and 
students gone out alone. They have been accompanied, if not 
rather preceded, by a proportionable number of the ruling 
elders and by about one million of the people of Scotland. f 

* Proceedings of the General Assembly of the Free Church of Scotland. 
Edinburgh, 1843, p., 247 and p., 32, 33. To this work we are mainly 

tAn Irish minister who has lately spent some weeks in Scotland, says, 
(we quote from the Banner of Ulster) : 

Before concluding this article, and this part of my subject, I wish to say 
a very few words about the Free Church people generally. I intend only to 
make a few observations about the great body of the people, — the laity, — 
in connexion with the Free Church in this place. I may say, speaking of 
them as a body, that they are worthy of their ministers. They comprise all 
the true worth of the nation. There has been throughout Scotland a regu- 
lar sifting and winnowing of the several congregations ; and from all I saw 
and heard during my six weeks' stay in Scotland, and from all that I knew 
of the people previously, having been in all the cities and in most of the 
large towns and counties of Scotland, I have no hesitation in saying that 
with very few exceptions, all the truly religious people of Scotland are to 
be found in the Free Church. 

I cannot conclude this letter better than by quoting the words of Sir 
George Sinclair, who was a bitter enemy of the Non-intrusionists previous 
to the disruption, and is no great friend to them yet ; but truth has extorted 
from him the following testimony to the character of the adherents of the 
Free Church. In speaking of his own parish, he says, — "I cannot contem- 
plate, without some great heaviness and continual sorrow at heart, the 
deserted seat in which the grey-headed elders were wont to meet, and the 
empty benches so recently occupied by matrons and patriarchs, lowly (it 
may be) in station, but pre-eminently adorning the Gospel, by the piety 
and consistency of their life and conversation. The case will be, I believe, 
precisely similar in almost every parish throughout the country. 'Arise, let 
us go hence,' has been the all but universal exclamation, in regard to the 


Nay, many even of the teachers of the schools, and these 
among the ablest in Scotland, have devoted themselves to^ the 
same glorious cause, and are prepared to make the same sacri- 
fices made by the clergy, and the young candidates for minis- 
terial ofifice. It was on the eighteenth of May last this greatest 
of modern events took place, and the cheers that broke from 
the dense throng that crowded St. Andrew's Church, and from 
the vast multitudes that waited for their retiring brethren at 
the door of the assembly, and who crowded every accessible 
place, — the streets, windows, staircases, house-tops, along their 
route to the Hall at Tanfield, Canonmills, which had been pre- 
pared for their reception, and the more than three thousand 
persons that waited them in the Hall, — assured them that "as 
it was the nation's battle they had fought, so the nation's heart 
was with them." The thousands that were seen for two days 
previous, pouring into the city of Edinburgh, where the Assem- 
bly was to meet ; the enthusiasm of these uncounted multitudes ; 
their shouts, their tears, their strong crying and prayers, their 
loud-bursting acclamations, by which they gave vent to the 
deep emotions of their souls ; all proclaimed that an event was 
taking place of wide spread and universal interest. Like an 
electric shock did the tidings of that day's proceedings spread 
through the length and breadth of the land, enkindling a flame 
of devotion in every hearth, that will long continue to burn. 
Never perhaps has an event so engrossed the universal mind and 
heart of Scotland. It has become a national question, the theme 
of universal discussion, the watchword of parties, the topic of 
family and social converse, and the high theme of sacred dis- 
course. Nor has this interest been confined to Scotland. It 
has diffused itself through England, Ireland, the Continent, 
Europe, America, and the whole civilized globe. It has been 
published in all languages, so that there is no speech where its 
voice is not heard. It has penetrated the walls of palaces ; 
aroused the attention of potentates; stirred the hearts of legis- 
lators ; alarmed the deathlike silence of inquisitorial conclaves ; 
given faith even to infidels ; and cast a mountain into the waters 
of human society, whose surging billows will never cease to 
roll, until the angel, having the last trump, shall plant his foot- 
steps on the sea, and proclaim that time shall be no longer. 
The issues of this event shall spread to every land, and bless 
the nations of the earth. 

Among these champions of the truth, who now constitute 
the Free Church, are found the master-minds of Scotland, — its 

Establishment, of thousands of her most devoted adherents, who, a few 
months ago, would not have counted their lives dear unto them, had they 
been called upon not to be bound merely, but to die, in defence of their 
rights and liberties." 


science, literature and theology.* "A very slight acquaint- 
ance," it has been said, "with the progress of religion, of 
letters, of science, and of society itself in Scotland, for the last 
fifty years, must convince every one, that the first men of that 
nation, in every department of knowledge, of effort, and of 
excellence, have directed this movement. A list of nearly two 
hundred names, of which the first (after the moderator's) is 
Thomas Chalmers, and the last David Brewster, and the rest 
worthy of such an association, is a thing for a world, rather 
than a single city, — a century rather than a single hour, to 
exhibit. Of that list of names, the larger part are known to 
Europe; very many, to civihzed man; and not a few will five 
forever. If any cause was ever ruined by human testimony, 
that upheld by the moderate party and the English government 
is undone. If any cause was ever sanctified by human appro- 
bation, the name of The Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland 
is already become immortal. "f 

Such is that event that has called us together. Such the 
•character of that body whose claims to our sympathy and tem- 
porary relief, I now advocate. Like Israel of old, they have 
made their exodus from the land of Egypt, and from the hard 
task-masters who grievously oppressed them. They are now 
in the wilderness. Houses of worship are to be built for some 
seven or eight hundred congregations. As many ministers are 
to be supported. Colleges, theological seminaries and libraries 
are to be founded. All this is to be, in some good measure, 
effected at once. Hence, the demand made upon us. It is not 
for any permanent support. It is not for any thing like a 
re-establishment of the church. It is not to supercede the 
strenuous efforts of the people of Scotland themselves, cast 
off as they are by the rich, the noble, and the mighty of the land. 
No, it is to extend to them a helping hand in their present 
emergencies ; it is to assist them in laying the foundation of 
their glorious superstructure; it is to cheer them forward in 
their herculean effort of self-denying charity by some manifes- 
tation of our cordial and heartfelt approbation ; it is to extend 
to them some rills of charity, which rising to heaven as an 
incense of pure offering to God, may be again distilled upon 
us in the copious showers of heaven's fertilizing grace. 

♦Before dropping the ministers, whose christian principles are known by 
the sacrifices they have made, I need scarce say what almost everybody 
knows, that among them are to be found the talent, the learning, the piety, 
and zeal, which have, for many years, characterised and distinguished the 
Church of Scotland. But while they are the best scholars, the best speak- 
ers, the best preachers, the most zealous and devoted ministers, they are 
also in private life the most accomplished and amiable men. — The Banner 
of Ulster. 

tDr. Breckinridge's "Spirit of 19th Century," p. 425. 


Give me, therefore, your attention, while I endeavour in the 
first place, to explain to you the principles upon which the Free 
Church of Scotland is based, and for which it is contending, 
and the consequent necessity for its separation from the estab- 
lishment. The magnitude of these principles, their direct bear- 
ing on the mediatorial crown of our exalted Redeemer, and 
their intimate connexion with the purity of the gospel, the 
force of its truth, and the saving of lost souls; this is what 
covers with such a halo of glory, this wonderful event. These 
principles may be reduced to four, — first, the sole right of 
Christ to reign and legislate in his own house, the church of 
God, which he has purchased with his own blood ; — secondly, 
the supremacy of His word as the only rule of ecclesiastical 
affairs; — thirdly, the exclusive jurisdiction of the officers of 
the church in the government ot its spiritual concerns; — and 
fourthly, the rights and privileges of the christian people, — • 
their right to be regarded as members of the christian com- 
monwealth, — their right to participate in the administration of 
its affairs, through their delegates, — and their right to the 
choice of their own pastors, who shovdd be over them in the 

By the first principle, it is taught that the Lord Jesus Christ 
is the alone king and head of his church ; that the church 
must have power from its divine head to do all for which it is 
designed, and so far as government is necessary to accomplish 
this, an inherent power of self-regulation and direction; that 
this power is inalienable, and cannot be surrendered, without 
dethroning Christ and reducing his kingdom to a state of 
slavery under the tyrannic despotism of man ; and that within 
the sacred precincts of Christ's house and kingdom, no civil 
governor has any right to enter. In short, by this principle 
it is maintained, that the church is divine and not human in its 
origin; spiritual and not worldly in its objects, laws and penal- 
ties ; and that it has exclusive reference to the destinies of 
eternity in all its arrangements. It is, therefore, above reason, 
above human law, above human interference. It is "not of 
this world" in its supreme head, in its immutable laws, in its 
unchangeable ordinances, and in its glorious issues. The 
church is independent of the state, and as far removed from its 
jurisdiction, as is the state from the jurisdiction of the church. 
Both are ordained by God, the one for man's present welfare, 
and to be administered by man's wisdom ; the other for man's 
everlasting happiness, and to be administered by the wisdom of 

By the second principle, the eternal law and everlasting 
gospel of God, are made the foundation of Christ's throne as 
head over all things to his church. The scriptures form the 


written constitution of the church, her magna charta, her 
supreme arbiter and judge, and the only infalHble rule of faith, 
order, and practice. To these alone is the church amenable in 
her spiritual, that is her true character ; by these alone is she to 
be guided ; and to their voice alone can she render implicit and 
final subjection. Their will is law; their determination duty; 
and their requirement, whether to do or to bear, to act or to 
suffer, destiny. The supremacy of this law of God we are to 
maintain against all claimants ; its authority, against all power 
of man ; its obligation, against all the statutes of human legisla- 
tion ; its perfection, against all the devices of earthly wisdom; 
and its prerogatives, at every cost of suffering, imprisonment, 
poverty, torture and death. In the language of one of Scot- 
land's poets, — her second Burns,* — and in equal application to 
our own country, we would say, 

"I thank thee, Father, who hast spread, 

Before men's eyes this charter of the free, 

That all thy book might read, 

And justice love, and truth and liberty. 

Above all kingly power or kingly law, 

May Scotland reverence aye, the Bible of the Ha." 

By the third principle, we are required to contend, not only 
for the supremacy of Christ's crown and authority, and the 
supremacy of Christ's laws, but also for the supremacy of 
Christ's appointed officers. All power being His, and he being 
ever living and present with his church, they only can exercise 
authority in his kingdom, to whom he has delegated official 
trusts. Just as surely as Christ is our legislator and judge, 
and his laws our only charter, can they be interpreted and 
administered only by his own appointed officers. Just as cer- 
tainly as we are to uphold the supremacy of his crown and of 
his law, are we also to maintain the supremacy of his own 
elected agents. The privilege of christian ministers and offi- 
cers in the church, is therefore, to be maintained as tenaciously, 
as resolutely, and as dearly, as the privilege of magistrates 
and legislators in the state. And we are no more to allow the 
dictation or interference of the civil power in the affairs of the 
church, and in the discharge of ecclesiastical functions, than 
we are to tolerate a priestly domination over the affairs of the 
state. Each is to be upheld in its independent sovereignty, 
the state having absolute controul over all persons in their civil 
relations, and the church having absolute jurisdiction over all 
who voluntarily submit themselves to its discipline, in their 
spiritual relations. 

By the fourth principle, the inalienable liberties of the chris- 

*Robert Nicoli, who died in his 24th year in 1837. See his Poems. 
Second edition. Edinburgh : 1842 ; With a very interesting memoir. 


tian people, as Christ's spiritual freemen, are asserted and 
maintained against all spiritual despotism on the one hand, and 
all civil encroachments on the other. The standing of the 
christian people, to the extent already described, is a truth of 
God, a gift of Christ, a part and parcel of the common law of 
Christianity. "It is found to be coevil with the introduction of 
the gospel into Britain ; is wrought into the history of the Scot- 
tish nation and the texture of the Scottish church. It was a 
legacy from the apostolic Culdees, and which they bequeathed 
to us at the cost of many sufferings. It was a strong hold of 
our mighty reformers, which to neither to sovereign or peer, 
they ever would surrender, and it even found a distinguished 
part of their protest against Antichrist." It was, In fact, with 
the godly of other days an article of faith, for which they con- 
tended earnestly; and that spiritual birth-right, for whose 
glorious freedom they stood fast even unto martyrdom. 

Such, then, are the principles for which the Free Church of 
Scotland is now a witness. They evidently embrace whatever 
of dignity, privilege and glory, Christ has conferred upon his 
church. They are essential to her existence, perpetuity and 
strength. To establish them, Christ, though God, was mani- 
fested in the flesh ; — to bear witness to them, Christ suffered to 
the death, and sealed them with his blood.* Having, by his 
satisfaction to divine justice for the sins of men, purchased for 
us this kingdom, and having ascended up on high, Christ gave 
these gifts unto his people, engaging to be with them in their 
support and defence, even unto the end of the world. These 
principles are laid down in the word of God, are as ancient as 
Christianity, and common to all churches formed upon the 
model given to us in the bible. No church of Christ therefore, 
has any liberty to alter, compromise, or amend them. They are 
fundamental laws. Without them the church is enslaved under 
the yoke of Erastian or priestly tyranny ; — with them she is 
free to serve the Lord alone. The maintenance or prostration 
of these principles is not, therefore, a Scottish question, but one 
interesting to all christians, "a. question of eternal truth." 

Now, in order to carry out and fully to maintain these prin- 
ciples, it was unavoidably necessary for every true hearted 
member of the established Church of Scotland to come out 
from the midst of her and to be separate. This necessity was 
just as imperative as that which actuated their fathers in the 
days of Knox or in the days of Henderson. In the former 
period, that is in her first reformation, the Church of Scotland 
contended for these principles against the infallibility of popes. 
In the second period, or as it is well defined, the second refor- 

*John xviii. 38, 58, 27. Luke xxiii. 3. John xix. 12, 13, 19. 


mation, she contended for them against the infalHbihty of 
kings. And now, in this third reformation, the Church of 
Scotland is seen contending for these same principles, against 
the assumed infallibility of the judges of the land, aided and 
abetted by that body of Erastian moderatism within the church 
itself which has controled its movements for a century past. 
This system of moderatism, says Hetherington, the historian of 
the Scottish Church, had its origin in the combination which 
early took place between the indulged ministers and the prelatic 
incumbents who were introduced into the church by the com- 
prehension scheme of King William. The perfidious act of 
1712, re-imposing patronage, gave this party growth, and fos- 
tered it into strength. Early in its progress it showed itself 
favorable to unsoundness of doctrine and laxity of discipline, 
and strongly opposed to the rights and privileges of the chris- 
tian people. Heresy was more than tolerated ; the doctrines of 
grace and evangelical truth were condemned, legal preaching 
was encouraged, and a cold and spiritless morality was substi- 
tuted instead of the warm life of the gospel. Increasing in 
power, it gave more open and vigorous exercise to its malignant 
nature, by violating the constitutional principles of the presby- 
terian church, perpetrating intrusive and violent settlements,* 
repressing the remonstrance of faithful ministers, driving them 
out of the church, protecting its own heterodox and immoral 
adherents, courting patrons and politicians, insulting and deeply 
grieving the religious part of the community, and causing them 
even more in sorrow than in anger, to abandon the beloved 
national church of their martyred fathers. Arrived at maturity, 
it boldly declared its principles to be entirely worldly, and its 
whole policy to be founded on the maxims of secular society, 
(directly contrary to the distinct declarations of the Lord Jesus 
Christ and his inspired apostles.) With difficulty was it re- 
strained from abandoning the subscription of confession of 
faith (though even worldly policy could perceive the danger of 
a deed so glaringly unconstitutional.) Advancing towards the 
stage of rigidity which is symptomatic of decline, it prohibited 
the missionary enterprise, and thereby declared to the world 
that it had so little of a christian spirit as not to feel itself 
bound to obey the Saviour's farewell injunction. Having 
refused to aid in propagating the gospel abroad, it next exerted 
itself in checking the extension of christian instruction at home, 
by the obstructions and difficulties with which it opposed the 
erection of new churches. And by the act of 1799, it declared 

♦Unscrupulous hirelings were in many cases forced upon an unwilling 
people at the point of the bayonet and by the aid of an armed force, when 
not a single individual or but very few persons could be found in a parish 
who would attend their ministry. See Hetherington's or any other history 
of the church of Scotland. 

14— Vol. v. 


against christian communion with other churches, however 
sound in their doctrine and faithful in their ministry. 

Such did Moderatism prove itself to be, when it reached its 
full development as a system, worldly, despotic, unconstitu- 
tional, unpresbyterian, unchristian, and spiritually dead, — the 
utter negation of every thing free, pure, loftly, and hallowed, — 
if indeed, it ought not rather to be said that its essence was 
antipathy to every thing holy, scriptural and divine.* 

Now against the despotism of this party within the church an 
unceasing, but ineffectual struggle has been made for more than 
a century. In 1834 the evangelical party gained an ascendancy 
in the councils of the church. It immediately passed an act 
protecting the people against the intrusion of ministers, called 
the veto act ;'{■ entered upon the vigorous prosecution of 
schemes for the education of the people, for the extension of 
the church, for the conversion of the Jews, and for the propa- 
gation of Christianity in foreign lands ;1: repealed the act which 
prohibited free communion with other churches, and opened its 
arms to receive as brethren, all who love the Lord Jesus Christ 
in sincerity and truth. 

An arrest, however, was soon laid upon these movements. 
The moderate party, foiled and beaten within the church, had 
recourse to the strong arm of power. The civil courts were 
called upon to interfere and to crush this spirit of liberty and of 
spiritual independence. Nor were they found unwilling. Step 
by step have they advanced in their career of legislation, until 
at length there is absolutely not one proceeding, however exclu- 
sively ecclesiastical in its character, in which the civil court is 
not asked to interpose. It has entered the province of the church 
and interfered with the proceedings of all its courts, from that 
of a church session, up to the General .Assembly. It has 
asserted a supremacy in spiritual matters, interdicting church 
censures, and preventing the execution of sentences of excom- 

*Hetherington's history of the church of Scotland. 

tDoubts were entertained by some at the time of the passage of this act 
whether it might not be held that it was beyond the powers of the church 
to pass such an act ; but the opinions of the legal advisers of the crown, 
and of the lord advocate and solicitor general, removed these doubts, assur- 
ing the supporters of the veto act that it was perfectly competent for the 
church to pass an act so manifestly consistent with her legally recognized 
constitution. Lord Chancellor Brougham also gave it his decided approba- 
tion as in every respect more desirable than any course that could have 
been taken. To charge the church with rashness, disregard of law and 
innovation is therefore to set matter of fact, truth and reason at defiance. 
Such, also, was the view taken of it by the attorney general of England. 
Lord Moncrieff, who moved the adoption of this law, is also one of the 
Lords of session. — See Hetherington's historv of the church of Scotland. 
p. 732. 

tAll the foreign missionaries of the establishment have declared their 
adherence to the Free church. It is stated that not a single missionary 
remains in connection with the establishment. 

free; church of Scotland. 211 

munication, suspension and deprivation. It has removed sen- 
tences of deposition, interfered with the majority of a presby- 
tery in the exercise of purely ecclesiastical functions, and 
substituted the minority in their room. It has even forbidden 
numerous ministers and elders, in good and regular standing, 
to sit or rule in any of the ecclesiastical judicatories of the 
church. Nay, it has dared to interfere with and to interdict the 
preaching of the gospel and the administration of ordinances 
within certain bounds, in express contradiction to the authority 
and injunctions of the church. By these and other acts, 
enforced by civil coercion, fines and imprisonment, every one of 
the principles we have illustrated were overthrown, and the 
church converted into a mere creature of the State, utterly 
despoiled of any spiritual character or rights. And when these 
proceedings on the part of the lower courts had been sustained 
by the higher courts, by the English judges, and by the parlia- 
ment itself, and were thus made the acknowledged and neces- 
sary conditions upon which any man could remain in the estab- 
lishment or enjoy its benefits, the members of the evangelical 
party, who are now the Free church, felt constrained to protest 
against them and to depart. They could not, without commit- 
ting what they believed to be sin, in opposition to God's law, in 
disregard to the honor and authority of Christ's crown, and in 
violation of their own solemn vows, comply with these condi- 
tions, and they could not herefore, in conscience, continue con- 
nected with, and retain the benefits of, the establishment to 
which such conditions are attached.* They could not have 
gone out sooner, because as guardians of the rights and liber- 
ties of the people it was their duty to remain, as long as they 
were permitted to do so without submitting to unlawful and 
unchristian imposition. And they were compelled to go out 
when they did, because they were then required to submit to 
the conditions aforesaid, which are contrary to, and subversive 
of, the settlement of church government effected at the revolu- 
tion and solemnly guaranteed to the Church of Scotland by the 
Act of Security and Treaty of Union ; which are also at vari- 
ance with God's word ; in opposition to the doctrines and funda- 
mental principles of the church of Scotland ; inconsistent with 
the freedom essential to the right constitution of any church of 
Christ ; and incompatible with the government which He, as the 
head of his church, has therein appointed distinct from the civil 

Had these men remained, the very fact of their continuing to 
draw their salaries after the declarations and decisions made by 
the state, would have committed them as honest men, in a 
solemn promise to the state that they would no longer condemn 

*See their protest. 

212 free; church of Scotland. 

or oppose its measures, and that they now acquiesced in the 
principles estabhshed by law. So that any protest entered into 
by the evangelical party while thus remaining, would have been 
base, hypocritical and dishonest. They have therefore acted as 
honest, upright, consistent, and christian men should act. They 
have hoped all things and endured all things for a century past. 
But they have been at length driven to the wall, and required 
either to authenticate as true what they believed to be false, or 
to retire. The powers that be, had determined that the church 
should be subject to the control of the civil power, not only in 
things civil but in things sacred also ; that the officers of the 
church should have no jurisdiction and its members no rights, 
but what the courts of law might be pleased to allow them ; 
and that the abominable law of patronage should be rigorously 
enforced. How far the courts have carried this matter will be 
apparent from the single case of the united parishes of Marnoch 
and Strathbogie. Seven ministers who had been deposed from 
their office, and who were therefore no longer ministers in the 
church, proceeded under the sanction of the court on January 
21st, 1841, to ordain over these parishes, a man named 
Edwards (let his name go down to perpetual infamy!) who 
could procure in the whole parish no other signature to a call, 
than that of Peter Taylor the tavern-keeper. When asked by 
what authority they came there, these deposed ministers an- 
swered that they were the presbytery of Strathbogie and assem- 
bled in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. All the parishioners 
having entered their protest against the tyrannous proceedings, 
Mr. Edwards then solemnly declared before high heaven that 
zeal for the honour of God, love to Jesus Christ, and a desire 
of saving souls, were the great motives which led him to enter 
into the office of the sacred ministry.* The dreadful vow was 
uttered. The horrid farce was enacted by the aid of policemen 
and excommunicated ministers, and Edwards departed from 
the place amidst the hisses of the people — "a. minister without 
a parishioner — a man without a friend." 

In March of the same year, the presbytery of Auchterardy 
for not degrading themselves to the same guilty course, were 
fined in the amount of £16,000, to be divided between the court, 
the ministers, and Lord Kinnoull the patron. 

Now as the State would not, and the Free Church party 
could not, yield these points, they were under the necessity of 
peacefully withdrawing from all alliance with the state, or 
with the moderate party in the church, and to become what they 
now are, a voluntary church. 

*Such is the answer required from every candidate for ordination in the 
Church of Scotland. 


This leads me to state briefly the grounds upon which an 
appeal may be properly made to American christians, on behalf 
of the Free Church of Scotland. 

And is there not, in the outset, something in the very name 
by which she is called, that should give a favourable hearing to 
her claims. She is the Free Church of Scotland. And is 
not the name a just representation of the principles for which 
she is contending? The independence of the church upon the 
state, — the voluntary support of the cause of Christianity, — the 
spirituality of the church, of her courts, of her ministers, and 
of her officers, — and the rights, immunities and privileges of 
the christian people, — these are the watchwords by which she 
now feels her way to every heart animated by the spirit of 
freedom. This glorious liberty of the children of God, the 
state never gave, and can never take away. It is the inaliena- 
ble birthright of Christ's free church. It was maintained by 
our Scottish forefathers in circumstances of controversy, and 
of cruel persecution, for a whole century. And when Andrew 
Gordon and Thomas Chalmers lifted on high the banner of 
covenanted truth, the people of Scotland again rallied round it. 
Voices came forth from every corner of the land to cheer them 
forward. Hearts and purses were opened, and one million of 
people, besides the hundreds of thousands who had previously 
left the establishment, to enjoy in freedom the blessings of her 
original constitution, have enrolled themselves in the ranks of 
The Free Church oe Scotland. The spirit of better times 
is again awake. The courage that resisted Laud and Lauder- 
dale, James, and Charles, again lives. Persecution, as has been 
said, has again mustered another covenanted and Puritan host. 
The spirit of young liberty is again enkindled in the hearts of 
the people. "God and my right" is their watchword ; and con- 
science, truth, and justice have triumphed. Independent of all 
extrinsic influence, superior to all political manoeuvre, redeemed 
from all dependence on perfidious bills and wily statesmen, 
and delivered from all internal foes and domestic broils. God's 
people are free. And shall they make a vain appeal to us, 
from whom they have learned such lessons of freedom and 
independence, when they ask us, not to enter into their strug- 
gles which are past, not to encourage them in resistance to the 
state* with which they have now nothing to do as christians, 
but to lend them a temporary assistance, until such time as they 
can gather strength and resources, sufficient to meet the de- 
mands that are constantly made upon them? It cannot be. 

*It was the wish of the Free church to obey the law of the land which 
led them to leave the establishment, because they could not submit to its 
terms, and because, when out of the establishment, they may hope to be 
required to do nothing contrary to their consciences. 


"The greatest glory of a free born people 
Is to defend that freedom when assailed, 
And to diffuse its blessings round the earth." 

But we are further called upon to render this assistance, by 
a sense of gratitude for blessings received from Scotland, and 
from the predecessors of these very individuals who now ask 
our aid, men who cherish their sentiments and maintain the 
same noble struggle. Who compute the amount of obligation 
under which America lies to Scotland ? To her we are indebted 
for the first example of a reformation, — that is a religious 
revolution, — originated, carried on, and completed by the peo- 
ple, against the wishes and in opposition to the power of princes 
and nobles. To her we owe the noblest maintenance that has 
ever been exhibited, of those principles of religious and civil 
freedom upon which our republic is based. To her we owe a 
Knox, a Buchanan, an Andrew Melville, an Alexander Hen- 
derson, a Guthrie, a Rutherford, a Gillespie, an Argyle, men 
who had genius sufficient to fathom the depths of political 
science ; patriotism to scan the equal rights of the governed and 
the governor ; courage to proclaim to kings their duty, and to 
the people their rights ; fortitude to offer up themselves, their 
fame, their honor, their comfort and their lives, upon the altar 
of liberty; and faith to look forward in confidence to the day, 
when the spark of freedom they enkindled and preserved would 
burst forth into a universal flame. 

"For freedom's battle once begun. 
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, 
Though baffled oft, is ever won." 

To Scotland we owe the successful issue of that eventful 
and long protracted struggle for liberty of conscience, liberty 
of opinion and liberty of action, which resulted in the downfall 
of the Stuarts, the glorious commonwealth, the ever memorable 
revolution, and the acknowledgment of our American independ- 
ence. Had not Scotland united her army with the English 
forces, the long parliament would have been subdued, the 
champions of liberty executed as felons, as were their exhu- 
mated bones, the chains of despotic power again fastened in 
tenfold severity upon an enslaved kingdom, and the hopes of 
the world crushed. 

To Scotland we owe the system of parish schools, the uni- 
versal education of the people, the relief of the poor without 
poor laws, — that incubus which is now sucking out the very 
life-blood of England, — the establishment of universities under 
the guidance of religion, and fully commensurate to the wants 
of an enlightened people. 

To Scotland we owe a large proportion of those ministers 
and people who colonized this country, christianised and enlight- 


ened it, diffused over it the spirit and principles of freedom, 
and fought the battles of our revolution. Many Scottish pres- 
byterians, says Bancroft, of virtue, education and courage, 
blending a love of popular liberty with religious enthusiasm, 
came over in such numbers as to give to the rising common- 
wealth a character which a century and a half has not effaced. 
To the Scotch, says Dr. Ramsey, and their descendants, the 
inhabitants of Irish Ulster, South Carolina, is indebted for 
much of its early literature. A great portion of its physicians, 
clergymen, lawyers and schoolmasters, were from North 
Britain. Now, these, to a man, were found ranged under the 
banners of our young republic, from the very beginning of her 
contest until its glorious consummation. Dr. Witherspoon, one 
of the predecessors and leaders of these very men who now 
constitute the Free Church of Scotland, who advocated their 
views with indomitable courage against the overwhelming 
forces of the then triumphant moderate party, and who came to 
this country, animated by the principles of liberty, was, you are 
well aware, a member of that very body which gave birth to 
the declaration of independence, and one of its first signers. 
When that congress still hesitated to cross the Rubicon, and 
abandon all hope of retreat, "there is" said Witherspoon, "a 
tide in the affairs of men, — a nick of time. We preceive it 
now before us. To hesitate is to consent to our own slavery. 
That noble instrument upon your table, which insures immor- 
tality to its author, should be subscribed this very morning, by 
every pen in the house. He that will not respond to its accents, 
and strain every nerve to carry into effect its provisions, is 
unworthy of the name of a freeman. For my own part, of 
property I have some — of reputation, more. That reputation is 
staked, that property is pledged, on the issue of this contest. 
And although these gray hairs must soon descend in the sepul- 
chre, I would infinitely rather they should descend thither by 
the hands of the pubHc executioner, than desert at this crisis, 
the sacred cause of my country." Such was the appeal which 
decided the action of that Congress, and the fate of this Ameri- 
can Republic. 

Nor is this all. To Scottish benevolence we are indebted for 
many acts of liberality towards our country in its infant state. 
The college at Princeton in a great degree, owes its present 
flourising condition to the pious and liberal charity of the 
friends of religion and learning in England and Scotland. In 
the year 1754 the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, 
recommended that a general collection be made at the doors 
of all the churches of Scotland for the support of this college. 

216 free; church of Scotland. 

At the same time we find them lending their Hberal aid to a 
Society for assisting protestant emigrants in Pennsylvania.* 

We are still further called upon to extend our liberal aid to 
the Free Church of Scotland in the present emergency, on the 
ground of the numerous and incalculable benefits which must 
result from this movement. 

It will diffuse the gospel through the waste places of Scot- 
land. From the enquiries made by a royal commission in 1831, 
it appeared that there were at least 500,000 souls in Scotland 
totally destitute of the means of obtaining religious instruction. 
It appears further that during the whole century previous to 
that time, there had been only sixty-three new churches erected 
by means of the establishment, notwithstanding the immense 
increase of the population. Vast numbers therefore were left 
either to sink into practical heathenism and immorality, or to 
become attached to some other denomination. This glorious 
consummation — the supply of these destitutions — will now be 
achieved. The formation of the Free Church is the dawning 
of the bright day of gospel light on 500,000 people hitherto 
in darkness. The etiquette and legal restraints of parishes 
will be no longer observed. The church is now free to perme- 
ate the length and breadth of the land and proclaim to all, the 
gospel of Christ. Not only will the desolations of the sanctu- 
ary be repaired, the long neglected wastes of Scotland, both 
in town and country, will be replenished. The light of the 
gospel will be carried to every cottage door within the limits 
of the Scottish territory. The liberal and large-hearted aspira- 
tions of John Knox when he desired a college for every large 
town and a minister for every thousand of the people, will be 
realized. The ungovernable masses now threatened the very 
existence of society, "will be humanized into contentment, 
loyalty and peace," and a land thoroughly christianized "will 
wreathe around the church of Scotland still brighter honours 
than those which have heretofore encircled her brow." 

And will not the history of this event carry with it to the 
ends of the earth, and to all future times, the glorious princi- 
ples for which the Free Church of Scotland has so nobly con- 
tended. These principles have hitherto been written upon 
paper and recorded in confessions and protests, — they will now 
be imprinted on the hearts of men, and become familiar and 
acknowledged truths, the test and character of a true church 
of Jesus Christ. 

••'See the memoir, prefixed to his Sermons, of the Rev. Samuel Davies, 
who was one of the deputation sent over for this purpose. The Assembly 
besides the above recommendation, further recommended to ministers to 
apply to the nobility and gentry, as they may have opportunity, to give their 
charitable assistance in this matter. See Annals of the General Assembly 
of the Church of Scotland from 1752 to 1767. Edinburgh, 1840, page 51. 
and Maclaurin's Life prefixed to his works. 


How powerfully also does this movement demonstrate the 
reality, the power, the superhuman might, of christian principle. 
The lie has now been given to the calumnies of an unbelieving 
world, that christians will part with nothing for the truth, and 
that they will take good care to preserve their money and their 
pockets, let conscience protest as it may. From all such 
charges Christianity is now redeemed. A testimony has now 
been born to the high minded integrity, conscientiousness, and 
divine faith of christians, which no promises, flattery, artifices, 
or fear of man can corrupt, which will preach louder than any 
sermons in behalf of the truth, purity and divinity of our holy 
religion. Not Scotland, therefore, but Christendom, nay the 
whole world, is debtor to those heroic christian men who have 
erected in the Free Church of Scotland, a beacon light which 
shall illumine with its brightness all the ends of the earth, and 
set an example of christian devotion, magnanimity and sacrifice 
that shall live in imperishable fame. 

Finally, the appeal to our liberal assistance of the Free 
Church of Scotland, is impressively enforced by a consideration 
of the disinterested sacrifices and unparalleled efforts they 
have themselves made. Many who even concur with them in 
their principles, are of opinion that they might have continued 
in the establishment. By retiring, however, from it, they have 
given up in salaries and other income, about half a million of 
dollars per annum. They had also for the last seven years 
been engaged in the herculean effort of raising for the building 
of churches about a million and a half dollars, besides some 
$40,000 per annum for their education, home mission, and 
foreign missionary schemes. They have not however now 
rested from their labours, nor do they ask us to do their work. 
They have strained every nerve to meet their own wants. 
Though generally poor, and unaided by the rich and the noble, 
they have already subscribed about a million of dollars. Per- 
sonal sacrifices of the most trying character have also been 
made by very many. Ministers have left homes where they 
dwelt in love and peace for a whole generation, and been under 
the necessity of occupying in soHtude some prophet's chamber 
while their families could find a refuge only at the distance 
of 60 or 70 miles. Mr. Swanson of Small Isles, being pro- 
hibited from occupying a spot of ground on which to build a 
temple for the worship of God, or a house to shelter him and 
his family from the rude elements, is obliged to betake himself 
to a floating manse, a true mariner's church, where he can 
receive the people at different points and preach to them the 
free and full salvation of the gospel. 'T know a case," says Mr. 
Guthrie, "that made my blood boil as an honest man and a 
freeman. There is a parish in Scotland, where there is a min- 


ister who has a sister, a brother, and a venerable mother under 
his roof. That mother was a minister's daughter — that mother 
was a minister's sister — that mother was a minister's wife — 
and now she is a minister's widow. And, sir, shame to the 
land that has such landed proprietors in it, that man of God 
must carry away his venerable mother, with the grey hairs of 
age upon her head, — who never knew a home on earth but a 
manse, — he must drive her away, because even a highland cot- 
tage cannot be got to lay her head in." Such are the scenes 
now passing in Scotland. Many ministers have left three 
storied houses, and lodged, with their families, in obscure 
apartments. Many have gone forth, they knew not whither, 
resigning and giving up all those places, "to which they are 
attached by so many fond and intense local affections, — their 
garden walks where they enjoyed the hours of their relaxation, 
and the peaceful study where the man of God and the man of 
learning enjoyed many a raptured hour in converse with their 
books." The amount of maddening provocation to which the 
people of some of our highland districts have been subjected, 
says the Edinburgh Witness, almost exceeds belief. We 
attended, about two months ago, the public services af a sacra- 
mental Sabbath in Lochiel's country. The congregation con- 
sisted of from three to four thousand persons, and never have 
we seen finer specimens of our highland population. We 
needed no one to tell us that the men at our side, — tall, muscu- 
lar, and manly, from the glens of Lochaber and the shores of 
Lochiel, — where the descendants, the very fac-similes, of the 
warriors whose battle-cry was heard farthest amid the broken 
ranks at Preston, and who did all an almost supernatural 
valour could do to reverse the destinies of Culloden. And yet, 
here were they assembled in the open air, as if by stealth, — the 
whole population of a whole district, — after having been 
chased by the interdicts of the proprietor from one spot of 
ground to another, and now sure only of the spot on which 
they stood, until such time as a new interdict should be drawn 
out. They had gone first to the parish burying-ground. It 
was the resting-place of their brave ancestors. One family had 
been accustomed to say, "This little spot is ours ;" and they 
reasoned rationally enough, that as the entire area belonged to 
them in its parts, it might be held to belong to them as a whole 
also, and that they might meet in it, therefore, to worship their 
God over the ashes of their fathers. Alas ! their simple logic 
was met by a stringent interdict ; and, quietly giving up the 
churchyard, they retired to a neighboring eminence, surmounted 
by a monument to the memory of that Colonel Cameron of 
Fassiefern who, at Waterloo, 

free; church of Scotland. 219 

"Foremost in the shock of steel, 
Died like the offspring of Lochiel." 

Not a few of them had fought by his side. But here there 
was no resting-place for them. The tenant who held the spot 
as part of a small farm was one of themselves, and they knew 
that he made them welcome; but highland leases are often 
doubtful things. They had learned that the proprietor had 
been written to on the subject, to the poor man's disadvantage; 
and, fearing lest he should be injured on their account, and 
with a delicacy peculiar to highlanders, they quitted the spot 
en masse, and took up their next station on the sea-shore. As 
we stood and listened, the rippling dash of the waves mingled 
with the voice of the preacher. But there was yet another 
interdict in store for them. The deal tables on which the 
sacrament used to be administered in the parish were the prop- 
erty of the establishment ; and so, leaving them, as they ought, 
to the state institution, they prepared, as they best could, a few 
rude forms for themselves. Well, and what then? On the 
most miserable plea that these forms had been made of zvood 
that had once groivn on the glebe, a stringent interdict arrested 
their use. 

The following striking facts were stated by Mr. Dunlop, the 
legal adviser of the Free church, in the course of an admirable 
and touching address made by him at the laying of the founda- 
tion-stone of the Free Church at Dailly, Scotland : "There is 
the Isle of Skye, for instance, where the proprietor, M'Leod of 
MXeod, not only refused a site for a church, but interdicted 
the people from meeting under the canopy of heaven, though 
his own tenants, on the very moors they rent from him, or 
even on the road-sides or bye-ways, — holding that he is the 
lord of the soil, and therefore entitled to prevent God's 
creatures from enjoying that soil for any purpose which he 
does not approve. He will let it out for culture, and give 
houses in which to eat and drink and sleep, but not a spot on 
which to build a house of God. Meet for that purpose any- 
where on his lands, and you are a trespasser. 'I won't force 
your consciences, but you shan't pray on my grounds : if you 
are to pray at all, I will drive you to the sea-shore.' I had a 
letter the other day from a parish in Sutherland, in which the 
people asked me, as legal adviser of the church, some questions. 
The sole heritor of the parish is against them ; and they asked 
me what he is entitled to in law. They said, — 'there is a com- 
mon in the parish on which we are entitled to pasture our 
cattle, and to walk over when we please ; may we meet there 
and put up a tent for worship ?' I was obliged to answer, 'the 
court won't allow it.' They asked then, 'May we go to the 
churchyard? The heritor says, no. But it is occupied by 

220 fri;e church of Scotland. 

the bones of our fathers. No heritors He there. We have all 
gone out. May we not take refuge over our fathers' graves?' 
I was compelled to answer, — 'the heritor is right. You have 
not the law upon your side.' The next question they put I was 
able to answer to their satisfaction. They asked, 'Whether 
they could not meet zvithin high zvater mark?' And there, in 
the w^inter, in the storms now approaching, they are to meet, — 
safer beside the stormy ocean than beside their great laird. 
The ocean, indeed, covers the spot at times, but there is little 
respite : when the tide is out they may put up a tent, and there 
meet for the worship of their God. They put another question, 
which I was obliged to answer against them too. They had 
saved a ship from wreck many years ago, and the captain, in 
his gratitude, had presented them with the ship's bell. In the 
pride of their hearts they stuck it up on the end of the church ; 
the heritors had provided none, — and for sixty years they had 
assembled for worship at the sound of that bell. They asked 
me, if they might not take it with them? Their fathers had 
put it up as a testimony to their bravery, and it was their own. 
But, no ! the bell had been where it was for more than forty 
years ; and they must hear the loved sound, — like the voice of 
a friend, — but pass it and go to worship on the sea-shore at 
the sound of the waves." 

The bitterness with which this persecution of the adherents 
of the Free Church of Scotland has been carried on, has been 
enough to madden the people into open rebellion. The land- 
owners, the lairds of Scotland, who are imbued with the spirit of 
moderatism, seem to foget that property has its duties as well 
as its rights, and that when the former are neglected, the latter 
are forfeited. Thus we read, that, when ground was asked, 
not as a gift, but as a purchase, to build a place of worship 
for the Rev. Mr. Sage, of Resolis, the applicants were told that 
"as much ground would be given as would bury him, but no 
more." The spirit which dictated such an answer as this, can 
be neither just, liberal, or christian, and is, of itself, a condem- 
nation of the cause which needs such support. 

Such then are the men whom we are called on to assist. 

"For them their lot is what they sought ; to be 
In life or death, the faithful and the free." 

To build eight hundred churches for the congregations demand- 
ing their immediate ocupancy;* to erect parsonages for their 

*The letter of the London Committee states, that seven hundred and 
eighty congregations had adhered to the Free Church. Many of these, 
however, may be very small, and not, at present, able to constitute full 
and ripe churches. Dr. Chalmers, however, in a recent letter to a minister 
in Belfast, Ireland, says, "The cause of our Free Church has grown upon 
our hands beyond all calculation. Besides the congregations of our out- 
going ministers, four hundred and seven in number, others are starting up 

free; church oi^ scotivAnd. 221 

ministers according to the good old custom of our fathers ; to 
found a college and theological seminary, with a sufficient 
apparatus and library ; to lend immediate assistance to unpro- 
vided ministers, — to help them in this great work, is what we 
are now called upon, as christian brethren, to do. 

This appeal comes home to the bosom of every Scotchman 
and the descendants of Scotchmen, — who may all glory in 
alliance with these nobles of the earth. It is not less powerful, 
when addressed to every emigrant from northern Ireland or 
to their descendants. Ulster was colonized by Scottish Presby- 
terians. To them, she owes her religion, education, morals, 
elevation, and proud superiority over every other portion of 
that country. Yes, the blood of Scotchmen rolls in our veins, 
and with exulting pride, we too, can look to these heroic mar- 
tyrs and say, "ye are our brethren and kinsmen according to the 
flesh." Five hundred ministers in Ireland, and one million 
of people, with all their hearts, go along with them in their 
struggle, and have already given fifty thousand dollars to their 

This appeal addresses us, as Americans. To us, as the 
friends of liberty and human rights, and the noble champions 
of civil and religious freedom, does the Free Church of Scot- 
land look for sympathy, encouragement, and aid in this noble 
efiFort to better our example. 

This appeal addresses christians, of all protestant denomina- 
tions. The testimony of the Free Church of Scotland, is not 
only a presbyterian, but a protestant testimony. The reforma- 
tion was a recovery of the truth, and freedom, and privileges 
of the gospel. That truth and freedom, and privilege, are now 
at stake in Scotland, and for their maintenance, does the Free 
Church stand forth prepared to suffer and to bleed. The 
question is, therefore, "a question of protestantism,' — a question 
of the right of private judgment, the right of each christian 
man to be dependent on Christ alone, and therefore, independ- 
ent of all authority, civil or ecclesiastical, in the discharge of 
his duty to Christ."* The Free Church of Scotland has, there- 
fore, held out to the protestant world the flag of unity, — the 
unity, not of slavish uniformity in rites or forms, but unity in 
the maintenance of common truths, in a determined protest 
against common errors, and that unity of the spirit which is 
the true bond of peace. Co-opEration, though not incor- 
poration, is the motto which now streams in her flying banner, 
and is destined to rally around the standard of the cross, every 

on all sides in moderate parishes, and all alike are imploring for the means 
of sheltering themselves before the approach of winter. There cannot be 
fewer than six hundred churches requiring, at the present moment to be 
erected in Scotland. 

♦Proceedings of General Assembly, p. 3. 


true friend to protestant and evangelical truth. Already has 
she received on her platform, delegates from every evangelical 
denomination, and from America as well as Europe. Already 
has she found Congregationalists, Baptists, Methodists, and 
Episcopalians, Reformed Dutch, and Seceders, ready, not only 
to approve her principles, but to lend to her the helping hand 
of their christian charity. Let us, also, come to her assistance, 
join hands with this sacred, christian brotherhood, and by our 
united and liberal contribution, give certain proof of our deep 
and heartfelt interest in her cause, the cause of protestantism, 
the cause of christian freedom, and of christian truth. Let 
our voice to be heard across the great Atlantic, saying, 

"On, brethren, on ! 
Speed your swift bark o'er the foaming seas. 
Spread forth your sails to the whistling breeze. 
Hoist the blue colours of Freedom high. 
Fling out their folds to the sunlit sky, 
Strain all your cordage, — and onward sweep, 
Hopeful and true o'er the bounding deep. 

On, brethren, on ! 
On with your message of holy love. — " 

And may He who has led them thus far, uphold and 
strengthen them, and make them more than conquerors through 
our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen, and Amen. 


The author thinks it advisable to add here, an article which 
he has inserted in some recent religious papers. 


Shall zve help her ? 

I was very sorry to see in the New York Observer an article 
expressing a doubt whether American christians could consist- 
ently aid the Free Church of Scotland, because she is com- 
mitted to the doctrine of an established church. But even sup- 
posing that she is, this certainly is not the doctrine for which 
she is now bearing her testimony, in persecution and distress. 
She is now in the wilderness, without house, or shelter, or food, 
or raiment, and surrounded by wild beasts and venomous rep- 
tiles, who go about seeking to destroy her. And why is she 
there? Because she is bearing witness to these fundamental 
truths, — that Christ alqne is the head, king, and legislator of 
his church; — that his word it the supreme law and standard of 
faith and practice of that church ; — that the spiritual officers 
appointed by Him are alone entitled to have rule within the 
church, or to interfere in the management of spiritual affairs ; — 
and that to the christian people belongs the right of choosing 
their own ministers and officers. Such are the principles for 
which the Free church has contended, — for which she has 
retired from the establishment, — for which she has relinquished 
property to the amount of about five hundred thousand dollars 
per annum, — and for which she is now lifting up a standard 
and giving her testimony to the world. And do we not, — all 
American christians, — concur with her in these essential doc- 
trines? As far at least as we do thus concur, can we not, and 
shall we not, express our sympathy for her, and proclaim our 
hearty approbation of her conduct? 

The Free church does, it is true, still cling to the abstract 
doctrine of establishments ; that is, as she herself expounds it, 
"that it is the duty of both governments and communities to be 
christians, to act as christians, and to make it their chief object 
to promote Christ's kingdom and glory."* But while she 
maintain the principle^ she utterly denies the possibility of liv- 
ing under any existing establishment, or of entering into any 
alliance with any state which would in any degree compromit 

*See Hetherington's History of the Church of Scotland, p. 775. 


any one of these sacred principles. Nay more, she is now in 
fact, in practice, and avowedly, a voluntary church, and as 
bitterly opposed to the Established Church of Scotland, and to 
the establishment on which that church rests, as are American 
christians. Let me give some proof of this fact out of much 
before me. It is from the very man whose opening speech 
at the first meeting of the Free General Assembly has given 
occasion to this apprehension in the minds of many. I mean 
Dr. Chalmers. I quote from his address, delivered July 13th, 
in Edinburgh, on occasion of the Bi-Centenary of the West- 
minster Assembly, as reportd in "the Witness :" 

"Before I have done," said Dr. Chalmers, "I am desirous of 
bringing above boards what I think will operate as a bar in the 
way of a cordial and good understanding, so long as it remains 
the object of a sensitive and fearful retricene. I do not sym- 
pathise with the exceeding care and caution of those people 
who look so prudent and so weary, and tell us that nothing 
must be said about Voluntaryism. I confess, on the other hand, 
my anxiety to say something about it, and that because of the 
conviction under which I labour, that while suffered to abide 
within the cell of one's own thoughts, where, from the very 
irksomeness of its confinement, it might rankle in the form of 
an unexplained grudge, it will operate most injuriously as a 
preventive to that full union between soul and soul, so indispen- 
sable to the comfort and the efficacy of co-operation between 
those who have now met together, and that with the avowed 
purpose of seeing eye to eye. Why, on the contrary, I would 
have it proclaimed openly and without reserve, that there is a 
difference of opinion upon this question ; and this, not with the 
design of creating a breach, or casting up a barrier between 
the parties, but with the very opposite design, of pointing out 
the egregious folly, if I may so term it, of suffering any such 
difference to stand in the way of their mutual helpfulness and 
encouragement, in every practicable walk of well-doing, for the 
good of our common Christianity. I am desirous of tabling 
the subject in the sight and hearing of all, that it may both 
be recognized as a topic of a real and honest difference, and, 
at the same time, be utterly disarmed and scotched as a topic of 
mischievous dissention. For how does the matter stand? 
Here are two parties, each honestly bent on the adoption of 
such measures as might best conduce to the moral and religious 
well-being of their fellow men ; but the one happening to think 
that the state should lend itself to the same object, by the 
method of an endowment, and the other happening to think 
the opposite to this. I ask, in the name of common sense, if 
two parties are to suspend their duty, common to both, and if 
that duty be co-operation for a great and general good, on 


which the hearts of each are ahke set, are they to suspend this, 
because they choose to differ in opinion respecting the duty of 
a third party that has no connexion with either of them? We 
stand as hopelessly dissevered from the party in question, and 
have as little hope of being restored to a connexion with them, 
as if there had sprung up betwixt us an immoveable wall of 
brass, a thousand cubits high. We, on the one hand, can enter 
into no terms with the government, who, because they endow 
a church, think they have a claim to govern it; and they, on 
the other hand, keep as resolute a hold of this Erastian imagin- 
ation, as if they would never let it go, till the kingdoms of this 
world become the kingdoms of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. So that the question now resolves into this. Will 
there, or will there not, be religious establishments in the days 
of the millennium? To me, at least, it seems the clear path 
both of wisdom and duty, just to leave that question for the 
millennium itself to settle, when the millennium comes ; and, 
meanwhile, do all we can to spread onward these millenial days, 
when the din of controversy shall be no longer heard, and the 
charity of the gospel shall have shed its dewy influences over 
the whole earth, now turned into a happy, and a harmonised, 
and, withal, universal Christendom. I confess, at the same 
time, a keener scientific interest in this question than ever, now 
that Voluntaryism, brought to the test of experience, is fully 
put upon its trial. I for one will make it my strenuous 
endeavour to do it all justice, by drawing on its resources and 
capabilities to the uttermost. The most direct way surely of 
giving it a fair trial is just to try how much it will yield, after 
that a full and fair appliance has been brought to bear upon it. 
It is but justice to add, that we are now in the very thick of the 
experiment. Some years ago, we tried what government would 
do in the way of an endowment for the religious instruction of 
the people, and, after a fruitless negotiation, got nothing for 
our pains. We have now made our appeal to the christian 
public, and in as few months as we spent of years with the 
government, we have obtained at the hands of the people the 
promise of toward three hundred thousand pounds. However 
it may turn out, the result will be a most instructive one. 
Should it so happen that after Voluntaryism has made its 
utmost efforts, it shall fall short of a full provision for the 
christian instruction of the people, so as to leave thousands 
and thousands more unreached and unreclaimed, and should 
an enlightened government, for the sake of these, hold forth an 
endowment, which shall leave us unfettered as their Regium 
Donum leaves the Presbyterians of Ireland, I am not prepared 
to say that it would be wrong, either in the one party to make 
such an offer, or in the other party to accept of it. But, as 

15— Vol. v. 


I have already stated, there is no hope whatever of any such 
overture being made, or of there ever being any practical call 
for the entertainment of such a question. Meanwhile, let us 
endeavour so to speed on the achievements of Voluntaryism, as 
to anticipate and supersede the necessity of this question ; and 
they who, intent on great designs, keep by great principles, 
will at length make full acquittal of theirs as being the only 
true consistency, — let hostile or unintelligent observers make 
what use they may of their party distinctions and party names." 

I will here add two other extracts illustrative of this point 
and of the spirit and character of the Free Church. "We do 
fear now," says the Presbyterian Review of Edinburgh, for 
July, 1843, "and our fear is grounded on the experience of our 
church for three centuries, that in the treatment of a church 
by ungodly statesm.en, one of two things will ever be aimed it : 
either they will take care that it is viciously constituted, or that 
it is viciously administered. They do not ask for both alter- 
natives, nor have they, in all likelihood, a preference of the one 
to the other. But give them, you must, either a corrupt system, 
or corrupt management. We cannot, therefore, be surprised, 
should it now be felt that the union of church and state, upon 
an evangelical platform is, in the present condition of civil 
government very hopeless, and that establishments having done 
the work they were fitted for, must be laid aside to prepare the 
way for the theocracy of the great king, when he shall 'take to 
himself his great power and reign.' At all events, the present 
administration have done what they can to advance the cause 
of voluntaryism." 

We call particular attention, also, to the following beautiful 
and striking declaration of sentiments delivered in the Assem- 
bly of the Free Church, by the Rev. Mr. Guthrie :* 

"I rejoice on all these accounts; and here I may be allowed 
the opportunity of stating what my views are with regard to 
the part which the evangelical Dissenters of this country have 
acted in this matter. No man mingled more in the voluntary 
controversy than I did. I have stood on the post and the 
pillory for five hours, and never was allowed to open my 
mouth; therefore I should be entitled to speak now on this 
subject. I will lift up my voice in this Free Assembly, as a free 
man, entitled to bear a free testimony to christian men ! and I 
must say, that in my wandering expeditions through the coun- 
try during the last twelve months, I have received the most 
kind, and cordial, and christian support from evangelical dis- 
senters of every denomination. I have always felt confident 
it would be so. There were men who said, 'they opposed you 

♦Proceedings of the General Assembly, pp. 98, 99. 

appi;ndix. 227 

before, and they will oppose you again.' Now, I had the most 
perfect confidence in them that, when we stood on the ground 
of our common Christianity, they would stand by us. It will 
be with them as it was with Moses, who, when he saw a 
Hebrew and an Egyptian contending together, smote the Egyp- 
tian, and buried him in the sand. When my brethren saw me 
battling for an establishment, I could not expect their support ; 
that would not have been honest ; but when they saw me bat- 
tling for Christ's crown and covenant, — when they saw me 
smitten by the civil courts, — when they saw an Egyptian smit- 
ing a Hebrew, they came in to support me. I take this oppor- 
tunity of saying, that I never did rejoice in anything more than 
in the explanation which Dr. Chalmers gave of the misreport 
of his first speech in the Assembly. When I heard of these 
reports, it deeply distressed me. I was spoken to on the sub- 
ject by two worthy dissenters in Edinburgh, men who have 
been praying for our church, and who are willing to pay for 
it too; and they told me it had given them the profoundest dis- 
tress. I assured them there must be some mistake ; and there- 
fore I never sat in any Assembly with more delight than I did 
when Dr. Chalmers gave an explanation, — an explanation that 
out and out, corresponds with the sentiments of my own mind. 
I am for a union in the meantime, in the way of co-operation 
What am I to do with the Cowgate and the Grassmarket, and 
the other destitute districts in my parish? I cannot open a 
church for them as I did when I was an established minister ; 
but, God helping me, I will not leave them to the man they put 
into St. John's. I cannot carry on the work myself; and I will 
rejoice with all my heart, if the evangelical dissenters of ever>' 
denomination in Edinburgh would come and sit down at a 
board with us in friendly conference. I would propose to Dr. 
Brown, — you take that portion of the work, and to Mr. Alex- 
ander, you take that, and I will take this ; let us divide the 
labour, and go forth to the heathen lands of Edinburgh, just 
as we go to the heathen lands of Africa. We cannot stop here, 
and I defy any man to stop there, who has heard our Clerk 
this evening read that touching and afi^ecting prayer of Jesus for 
his disciple. What is fv"st and foremost in that prayer ? What 
is mentioned once, twice, four, and five times, — what is re- 
peated over and over and over again in that prayer of our 
Redemer, 'That they may be all one, as I and my father are 
one!' I will never rest contented, — I will never cease to pray 
and work till that end is achieved, — and as I do so, I will bury 
in oblivion the memory of former controversies. Yes, Sir, O, 
that the day were come that I might meet with my brethren 
over the grave of all former controversies, — that we might 
shake hands and join hearts, and be one in Christ Jesus, — one 


regiment, bearing the same colours, and going forth like an 
army mighty for battle against one common and tremendous 
foe ! This is my wish ; it may not be realized immediately, 
but the sooner the time comes, the better for the cause of 
Christ. I rejoice that the controversy is ended. I rejoice be- 
cause I feel I may have sinned in it. I am not ashamed to 
confess that, in the voluntary controversy, while my opponents 
said things of me and my party they should not have said, I 
have said things of them and their party I should not have 
said. And when the heat and dust of this battle is by, I have 
no doubt I will be as free to confess, that while our opponents 
in the old house have said and done things to me they 
should not have done, I will confess that I have said things of 
them I should not have said. I will not give up one iota of my 
principles. I am ready not only to give up my stipend, — I 
have done that already, — but I am ready, as our fathers did, to 
give up my life, if necessary, in defence of these. I have said 
I am glad to get quit of controversy. I wish to devote my days 
to preaching, and to the pastoral superintendence of my people ; 
and the happiest day I experienced for years was when I left 
St. Andrew's Church." 

I hope, therefore, and trust, that christians of all denomina- 
tions will be found as ready in this country as in England and 
Ireland, to come forward to the liberal assistance of their suf- 
fering brethren of the Free Church of Scotland. And what is 
done, let it be done quickly. 

As a friend to the Free Church, I feel compelled to make 
these remarks, and would request their insertion in the New 
York Observer, that the explanation may follow the difficulty. 


The Protest read and haiidcd in before leaving the Assembly, 
in May, 1843. 

We, the undersigned ministers and elders, chosen as com- 
missioners to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, 
indicted to meet this day, but precluded from holding the said 
Assembly by reason of the circumstances hereinafter set forth, 
in consequence of which a free assembly of the church of 
Scotland, in accordance with the laws and constitution of the 
said church, cannot at this time be holden, — 

Consider that the legislature, by their rejection of the claim 
of rights adopted by the last general assembly of the said 
church, and their refusal to give redress and protection against 
the jurisdiction assumed, and the coercion of late repeatedly 
attempted to be exercised over the courts of the church in 
matters spiritual by the civil courts, have recognised and fixed 
the conditions of the Church Establishment, as henceforward to 
subsist in Scotland, to be such as these have been pronounced 
and declared by the said civil courts in their several recent 
decisions, in regard to matters spiritual and ecclesiastical, 
whereby it has been inter alia declared, — 

1st, That the courts of the Church as now established, and 
members thereof, are liable to be coerced by the civil courts in 
the exercise of their spiritual functions ; and in particular, in 
their admission to the office of the holy ministry, and the con- 
stitution of the pastoral relation, and that they are subject to 
be compelled to intrude ministers on reclaiming congregations 
in opposition to the fundamental principles of the church, and 
their views of the Word of God, and to the liberties of Christ's 

2d, That the said civil courts have power to interfere with and 
interdict the preaching of the gospel and administration of 
ordinances as authorised and enjoined by the church courts of 
the establishment. 

3d, That the said civil courts have power to suspend spiritual 
censures pronounced by the church courts of the establishment 
against ministers and probationers of the church, and to inter- 
dict their execution as to spiritual effects, functions, and privi- 

4th, That the said civil courts have power to reduce and set 
aside the sentences of the church courts of the establishment, 
deposing ministers from the office of the holy ministry, and 


depriving probationers of their license to preach the gospel, 
with reference to the spiritual status, functions, and privileges 
of such ministers and probationers, — restoring them to the 
spiritual office and status, of which the church courts had 
deprived them. 

5th, That the said civil courts have power to determine on 
the right to sit as members of the supreme and other judica- 
tories of the church by law established, and to issue interdicts 
against sitting and voting therein, irrespective of the judgment 
and determination of the said judicatories. 

6th, That the said civil courts have power to supersede the 
majority of a church court of the establishment, in regard to 
the exercise of its spiritual functions as a church court, and to 
authorise the minority to exercise the said functions, in oppo- 
sition to the court itself, and to the superior judicatories of the 

7th, That the said civil courts have power to stay processes 
of discipline pending before courts of the church by law 
established, and to interdict such courts from proceeding 

8th, That no pastor of a congregation can be admitted into 
the church courts of the establishment, and allowed to rule, as 
well as to teach, agreeable to the institution of the office by the 
Head of the Church, nor to sit in any of its judicatories of the 
Church, inferior or supreme, and that no additional provision 
can be made for the exercise of spiritual discipline among mem- 
bers of the church, though not affecting any patrimonial inter- 
ests, and no alteration introduced in the state of pastoral super- 
intendence and spiritual discipline in any parish without the 
coercion of a civil court. 

All which jurisdiction and power on the part of the said civil 
courts severally above specified, whatever proceeding may have 
given occasion to its exercise, is in our opinion, in itself incon- 
sistent with Christian liberty, — with the authority which the 
Head of the Church hath conferred on the church alone. 

And farther, considering that a General Assembly, composed 
in accordance with the laws and fundamental principles of the 
Church, in part of commissioners themselves admitted without 
the sanction of the civil courts, or chosen by Presbyteries, com- 
posed in part of members not having that sanction, cannot be 
constituted as an Assembly of the Establishment without dis- 
regarding the law and the legal conditions of the same as now 
fixed and declared. 

And farther, considering that such commissions as afore- 
said would, as members of an Assembly of the Establishment, 
be liable to be interdicted from exercising their functions, and 
to be subjected to civil coercion at the instance of an indi- 


vidual having interest who might apply to the civil courts for 
that purpose. 

And considering further, that civil coercion has already been 
in divers instances applied for and used, whereby certain com- 
missioners returned to the Assembly this day appointed to have 
been holden, have been interdicted from claiming their seats 
and from sitting and voting therein, and certain presbyteries 
have been by interdicts directed against the members prevented 
from freely choosing commissioners to the said Assembly, 
whereby the freedom of such assembly, and the liberty of 
election thereto, has been forcibly obstructed and taken away. 

And further, considering that, in these circumstances a free 
assembly of the church of Scotland, by law established, cannot 
at this time be holden, and that any assembly, in accordance 
with the fundamental principles of the church, cannot be con- 
stituted in connection with the state without violating the con- 
ditions which must now, since the rejection by the legislature 
of the church's claim of right, be held to be the conditions of 
the establishment. 

And considering that, wliile heretofore as members of church 
judicatories ratified by law and recognized by the constitution 
of the kingdom, we held ourselves entitled and bound to exer- 
cise and maintain the jurisdiction vested in these judicatories 
with the sanction of the constitution, notwithstanding the 
decrees as to matters spiritual and ecclesiastical, of the civil 
courts, because we could not see that the state had required 
submission thereto as a condition of the establishment, but, on 
the contrary, were satisfied that the state, by the acts of the 
parliament of Scotland, forever and unalterably secured to this 
nation by the treaty of union, had repudiated any power in the 
civil courts to pronounce such decrees, we are now constrained 
to acknowledge it to be the mind and will of the state, as 
recently declared, that such submission should and does form 
a condition of the establishment, and of the possesion of the 
benefits thereof ; and that as we cannot, without committing 
what we believe to be sin — in opposition to God's law — in dis- 
regard of the honour and authority of Christ's crown, and in 
violation of our own solemn vows, comply with this condition, 
we cannot in conscience continue connected with, and retain the 
benefits of the establishment to which such condition is 

We, therefore, the ministers and elders aforesaid, on this, 
the first occasion since the rejection by the legislature of the 
church's claim of right, when the commissioners chosen from 
throughout the bounds of the church to the general assembly 
appointed to have been this day holden, are convened together, 
DO PROTEST, that the conditions aforesaid, while we deem them 


contrary to and subversive of the settlement of church govern- 
ment effected at the revohition, and solemnly guaranteed by the 
act of security and treaty of union, are also at variance with 
God's word, in opposition to the doctrines and fundamental 
principles of the church of Scotland, inconsistent with the free- 
dom essential to the right constitution of a church of Christ, 
and incompatible with the government which He, as the head of 
his church, hath therein appointed distinct from the civil magis- 

And we further protest, that any assembly constituted in 
submission to the conditions now declared to be law, and under 
the civil coercion which has been brought to bear in the election 
of commissioners to the assembly this day appointed to have 
been holden, and on the commissioners chosen thereto, is not 
and shall not be deemed a free and lawful assembly of the 
church of Scotland, according to the original and fundamental 
principles thereof, and that the claim, declaration, and protest, 
of the general assembly which convened at Edinburgh in May 
1842, as the act of a free and lawful assembly of the said 
church, shall be holden as setting forth the true constitution of 
the said church, and that the said claim, along with the laws of 
the church now subsisting, shall in nowise be affected by what- 
soever acts and proceedings of any assembly constituted under 
the conditions now declared to be the law, and in submission to 
the coercion now imposed on the establishment. 

And, finally, while firmly assenting the right and duty of the 
civil magistrate to maintain and support an establishment of 
religion in accordance with God's word, and reserving to our- 
selves and our successors to strive by all lawful means, as 
opportunity shall, in God's good providence, be offered, to 
secure the performance of this duty agreeably to the scriptures, 
and in implement of the statutes of the kingdom of Scotland, 
and the obligations of the treaty of union as understood by us 
and our ancestors, but acknowledging that we do hold ourselves 
at liberty to retain the benefits of the establishment while we 
cannot comply with the conditions now deemed to be thereto 
attached — we protest, that in the circumstances in which we 
are placed, it is and shall be lawful for us, and such other com- 
missioners chosen to the assembly appointed to have been this 
day holden, as may concur with us, to withdraw to a separate 
place of meeting, for the purpose of taking steps for ourselves 
and all who adhere to us — maintaining with us the confession 
of faith and standards of the church of Scotland, as heretofore 
understood — for separating in an orderly way from the estab- 
lishment ; and thereupon adopting such measures as may be 
competent to us, in humble dependence on God's grace and the 
aid of the Holy Spirit, for the advancement of his glory, the 


extension of the gospel of our Lord and Saviour, and the 
administration of the affairs of Christ's house, according to his 
holy word ; and we do now withdraw accordingly, humbly and 
solemnly acknowledging the hand of the Lord in the things 
which have come upon us, because of our manifold sins, and 
the sins of this church and nation ; but, at the same time, with 
an assured conviction, that we are not responsible for any con- 
sequences that may follow from this our enforced separation 
from an establishment which we loved and prized — through 
interference with conscience, the dishonor done to Christ's 
crown, and the rejection of his sole and supreme authority as 
king in his church. 




Loss of the Steam-Boat Home, 

October 9, 1837. 




On Sabbath morning. October 22, 1837: 








According to Act of Congress, in the year iS^J, by 


In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of 
South Carolina. 


Were time afforded, the author would be glad to enlarge the 
account, contained in this pamphlet, of some of the circum- 
stances of the melancholy event to which it alludes, especially 
in reference to the Rev. Mr. Cowles, of whom his friends have 
learned several interesting particulars. He has, however, done 
little more than make some corrections. Were it possible for 
the author, he would also very gladly take this opportunity of 
removing whatever impression he may have left in any mind, 
in reference to the probable incapacity of the captain : but 
although he has examined every source of evidence, and re- 
ceived several communications on this subject, he has yet seen 
nothing to overthrow the united testimony of the many disin- 
terested witnesses who have been examined. Without, there- 
fore, deciding the question, he must leave it where he has placed 
it, and again express his hope that this, in connection with the 
other sermons published on this occasion, will have the effect 
of leading the public mind to a profitable consideration of this 
dispensation of Providence. 


So great and terrible a calamity as the loss of the Packet 
Home, and the destruction of ninety-five lives, should not pass 
by unimproved. It should, in every way, call forth attention 
and regard, — that as individuals and as a community we may, 
out of this bitterness, extract the sweetness of wholesome profit. 

The citizens of Charleston have done their duty by the ap- 
pointment of a Committee, to investigate the whole case, and 
report to them the result of their examination, and by their 
determination to take whatever other measures may be deemed 
most likely to prevent the recurrence of similar disasters for 
the future. 

As these proceedings are to be all made public, and will, 
doubtless, occupy much of the public attention, it may not be 
unadvisable to consider the matter religiously, and to hold up to 
the general view those "lessons of eternity" which are, surely, 
no less necessary to save us from "making shipwreck" of our 
future and everlasting hopes. 

While we thus hear the voice of God and the voice of man 
teaching and admonishing us ; while we are thus led to humble 
ourselves under the mighty hand of God, and to protect our- 
selves from the inexcusable perils to which we are exposed by 
the cupidity, or experimenting boldness, or the reckless indiffer- 
ence of men, we may hope that this whirlwind calamity, how- 
ever desolating in its progress, and heart-rending in its conse- 
quent misery, will leave behind it, an atmosphere purified, a sky 
cloudless, and a city rejoicing in hope of future safety. 

Such are the views with which the following Sermon is sub- 
mitted to the public. It was prepared under the excitement of 
the occasion, amid the multiplied labors of a most laborious 
profession, in a season of extraordinary engagement, and neces- 
sarily in much haste. It does not, therefore, pretend to elabo- 
rate or profound investigation. It is nothing more than a com- 
mentary upon this dreadful disaster as its text, and an applica- 
tion of it to the heart. As it was prepared for the services of 
the Sabbath, in that church of which the author is pastor, it 
would not have been ventured before the public had it not been 
publickly requested, and had not its publication been urged by 
numerous individuals, some of them not even connected with 
the author's congregation. Through their solicitation, and in 
the hope that good may be accomplished, it is now printed. 


As it regards the reproof administered on page 243, it should 
be remarked that the author has carefully avoided answering 
the inquiries of those who have been anxious to identify its 
recipient. This is wholly unnecessary to the end in view, and 
would defeat it. And even should he be misinformed upon the 
matter, — inasmuch as the conduct reprobated is not of impossi- 
ble occurrence, or unrecorded in history, — the public exhibition 
of its sinfulness may not be unnecessary. 

It was thought the author was rather strong in his judgment 
upon the vessel and her commander. As he was one of the 
committee of investigation already referred to, he was, through 
that evidence now before the public, enabled to express more 
strongly the fears of his own mind ; though it will be perceived 
he still leaves, and wishes to leave, the conduct of the captain 
open to any possible justification. 

Praying that God may bless this Sermon to the promotion of 
His glory, and the salvation of men, it is confided to that power- 
ful and ever living preacher — the Press — by 



LUKE) XIII. 1-5. 

There were present at that season some that told him of the Galileans 
whose blood Pilate had mingled zvith their sacrifices. And Jesus answering, 
said unto them. Suppose ye that these Galileans were sinners above all the 
Galileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you. Nay; but except 
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Or those eighteen, upon whom the 
tozver in Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above 
all men that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you. Nay: but except ye repent, 
ye shall all likewise perish. 

We have been called upon, my brethren, to hear during the 
past week, a tale of no ordinary sadness, and to witness calam- 
ity of no common or usual endurance. No enemy has been 
among us, to lay waste and destroy. No plague or pestilence 
have stalked through our city, brandishing around them the 
sword of death. Famine has not opened her wide and hungry 
jaws with earth-quake rapacity. No huricane has burst upon 
us with the fury of a midnight assassin, nor has the thunder's 
bolt riven our peaceful habitations. None of these things have 
happened. There has been among us neither open enemy, nor 
plague, pestilence or famine, nor yet the fury of the whirlwind 
and the thunder. 

Whence then that pall of sadness which has covered this 
entire community ? Whence that deep and universal sympathy 
which has taken possession of every heart? Whence that 
eager, anxious solicitude to hear fresh tidings of alarm? 
Whence those sounds of lamentation and weeping and great 
mourning — parents weeping for their children, and wives for 
their husbands, and friends for their relatives, and all refusing 
to be comforted because they are not. One subject has entered 
into every conversation, and suggested the inquiry to every 
meeting friend. What news of the boat? sounded from every 
parlour. What news of the boat was heard in every dwelling, 
and at the corner of every street. 

And now we have subsided into the certain and unquestion- 
able belief, that above ninety individuals, several of them our 
fellow townsmen, and all of them our countrymen, have been 
swallowed up as in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and 
perished in the mighty waters. The flood opened and they 
sunk like lead into its depths. And the sea returned in his 
strength and overthrew them, and the Vv^aters covered them — 
there remained not so much as one of all that hapless number. 
They now lie, cold and stiff in death, buried by the sea shore, 
16— Vol. v. 


where the roar of its inimitable waters will chant their funeral 
dirge. There they alike repose, having lain down together, 
to wake no more until they hear that trumpet's voice which will 
arouse the dull cold ear of death. There are t!ie old and the 
young — the infirm and the robust — the rich, and they who 
struggled hard in the toils of life. There is the mother and her 
infant babe — the husband and his long tried bosom partner — 
the friend and the friendless. Arid there are too the talented 
and accomplished. One grave protects them ; the same earth 
covers them : past them will flow the same waters, and around 
them will howl the same wintry tempests. 

One fortnight since, and how many hearts now stiffened in 
death, beat high with expectation ! One fortnight since, and 
how many homes now desolate, and forever to remain so, were 
filled with the hope and the promise of anticipated delight! 
Separations were to be soon terminated, and torn hearts bound 
up. The social circle was soon to be enlivened, and its vacant 
chairs filled up by their accustomed tenants. The festivities 
and merriment of the approaching season, were already wak- 
ened up ; and forms now vanished, were seen rejoicing amid the 
splendours of the scene. 

My brethren, we can see this multitude of fellow-beings, as 
they crowded on board that packet which was to restore them 
to their own sweet homes. We can accompany them as they 
cheerfully endured all the trials of their way, in the glad 
promise of a speedy voyage. We can enter into their fears, as 
they heard the wind roar around them, preluding storm and 
tempest. We can sympathise with their distress when they 
saw the curling, topping waves roll on the increasing fury of 
the gale, and the darkening heavens shut out the cheerful light 
of sun, and moon, and stars. We can weep with them, when 
they remembered home, and children, and friends, and felt that 
they were theirs, probably, no more. *We can more than fancy 
their anguish, when the ship began to yield to the strokes of the 
battering waves ; when the water, no longer kept without, 
forced its entrance ; when they were driven from their cabins, 
now filling with the devouring element ; when the machinery, 
enveloped in the rising waters, could no longer play ; when their 
failing strength was no more able to keep at bay the advancing 
flood ; when the lowering shades of night deepened the gloom of 
the tempest ; and when, in the hopefulness of relief, they wel- 
comed the fearful hazard of running themselves ashore, amidst 
the breakers, and taking chance among the ruins of the shat- 
tered hull. 

*The author, with his family, were among those who, through the mis- 
conduct and injustice of those interested, were involved in all the sufferings 
and loss consequent upon the wreck of the William Gibbons. 

the; voice; of god in calamity. 248 

But who can paint the scene of misery which now presented 
itself? Who can conceive the horrors of that awful hour, 
when, having struck the shore, a multitude were at once swept 
by the irresistible billows, into the dark and foaming ocean ; 
when the boat, filled with those who were willing to make trial 
of the fearful hazard, was seen emptying its contents into the 
insatiate waters ; when, amid the sepulchral tolling of the bell, 
the ship herself was seen rapidly cleaving in pieces before the 
omnipotence of the storm; and, one after another, was torn 
from his place of fancied security, and whirled into the eddy- 
ing rush of waters. This is a scene, which fancy may attempt 
to picture, but which cannot be truly imagined even by the 
fevered mind of those who were so wonderfully delivered from 

And, my brethren, wherefore do I again harrow up your feel- 
ings by the sad recital of this woful calamity? Why do I 
carry you to that night of storm and darkness, and terror, and 
cause you to hear the shrieks of the drowning suppliant, and 
the groans of those who were sinking for the last time into the 
yawning deep? Does not God speak to us from amid this 
whirlwind? Is He not seen riding upon the storm? Is He 
not heard uttering forth his voice, and calling upon all the ends 
of the earth, to hear what God the Lord would say unto them ? 
And shall we not give attention ; and shall we not hear ; and 
shall we not obey? "Despise not the chastening of the Lord. 
If we regard not the works of the Lord, and the operations of 
his hands, he will destroy us and not build us up. When the 
judgments of the Lord are abroad in the earth, let the inhabit- 
ants thereof learn righteousness." We have heard, it hath 
been told us, that of the few who are left to tell the tale of this 
terrible disaster, one has been heard to make merriment even of 
its sufifering and distracted victims ; and because his judgment 
slumbereth a little, to set his heart fully within him to pursue 
a course of thoughtlessness and unbelief. He that being thus 
warned, and thus summoned to repentance, "hardeneth his 
neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." 
He shall be "swept away as with a besom of destruction." Hear 
the words of the Lord, "I have overthrown some of you, as 
God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrha, and ye were as a fire- 
brand plucked out of the burning: yet have ye not returned 
unto me saith the Lord. Therefore thus will I do unto thee, O 

*Close by me, says one of the survivors, stood a woman with her child, 
and as she hung on the wreck with one hand and her darling in the other, 
a surf came and washed her child from her : and such was her delirious 
agony, that she leaped, and with a most pitiful scream, cried out, "O my 
child," and disappeared forever. Professor Nott, it is said, stood by his 
wife, who clung fondly to him. The steam pipe falling, crushed Mrs. 
Nott, and while he was making efforts to relieve her, they were both 
together washed overboard. 


Israel : and beacause I will do this unto thee, prepare to meet 
thy God."* 

My brethren, as the interpreter of the will of heaven, I have 
endeavoured to find out the meaning of that hand writing which 
the finger of God has traced upon this awful calamity. The 
following lessons, among others perhaps, seems to us very pow- 
erfully inculcated. May God impress them on every heart here 
present, to their salvation and his own glory. 

If the providence of God in this world were administered on 
the principle of perfect retribution, so that of every man it 
might be said, he is rewarded or punished according to his 
deserts; then the argument of those to whom our Saviour 
addressed the language of our text would be correct. It would 
also be appropriately directed against the sufferers in this catas- 
trophe, and we might, assuredly, conclude of each and all of 
them, that they were sinners above all others. But this argu- 
ment of the Pharisees Christ repudiates ; its principle he denies ; 
its assumptions he contradicts; and the pointed lesson he directs 
to their own hearts, saying, "Except ye repent, ye shall all like- 
wise perish." At present we see the ways of God through a 
glass darkly. We cannot fathom the depths of his infinite will, 
or scan the wisdom of his infinite designs. In this present state 
of being, we see but parts of his ways. We hear his footsteps, 
and listen to his voice, but He himself remains hid in his own 
invisible and incomprehensible obscurity. What we know not 
now we shall know hereafter, when before an assembled uni- 
verse, he will "vindicate Eternal Providence, and justify the 
ways of God to man." This terrible visitation does not then 
brand a character of necessary evil upon those who are its 
unhappy sufferers. Doubtless to some, it did ring the knell of 
eternal justice, and call up "a certain fearful looking for of 
judgment, and fiery indignation ;" but to others, it may have 
only rent asunder the chains of their mortality, and emanci- 
pated their ransomed spirits from the hard bondage of sin and 
sorrow. This calamity has to do with the living rather than 
the dead. To us it addresses itself — us it admonishes and 
warns. For, except we repent, we shall as surely, and as 
irremedially, and eternally, perish. 

And what does this calamity teach us? Does it not, in the 
first place, demonstrate the severity of God? We are all ready 
enough to believe in the existence of a God all merciful and 
generous, the giver only of good and pleasant gifts, and whose 
thoughts and purposes are wholly beneficent ; but we are all 
unwilling to believe in a God just as well as good — righteous as 
well as kind — powerful as well as merciful — and severe as well 
as pitiful. Behold then in this event the severity, as well as 

*Amos iv. 11, 12. 


the goodness of God; on them who perished, severity, but 
towards those who escaped, goodness, if they will be led by this 
goodness, to repentance, otherwise they also shall be cut off.* 

Say not God is too merciful to punish men. Behold him 
here bowing the heavens and coming down, sending out his 
arrows and scattering them, discovering the channels of the 
deep and the foundations of the world at his rebuke, and de- 
stroying them by the blast of the breath of his nostrils. f Say 
not God is too tender hearted to destroy. Even now does he 
declare in these desolations of his hand, that "he can create and 
he destroy," that judgment and justice are the habitation of his 
throne, and that he will execute to the uttermost the threaten- 
ings, as he will fulfil in all their plentitude, the promises of his 
word. Is God unrighteous who taketh vengeance ? Nay, God 
forbid, for how then will God judge the world. | See now, 
does God in this event most loudly say, that I, even I, am he, 
and there is no God with me. I kill and I make alive, I wound 
and I heal, neither is there any that can deliver out of my hand. 
If I whet my glittering sword, and mine hand take hold on 
judgment, I will render vengeance on mine enemies, and will 
reward me that hate me.§ Except, therefore, we repent, we 
shall all, in a like terrible manner, perish from the presence of 
the Lord, and the glory of his power. "He that hath ears to 
hear let him hear." 

Are we not, at the same time, and as forcibly, instructed in 
the impotence of man. Lord, what is man. that thou with thy 
rebuke dost swallow him up. Thou makest his beauty to con- 
sume away; his strength is as nothing before thee. Thou 
sayest return, and the dust returns to the dust from whence it 
sprung, and all the glory of man fades as the grass of the mown 
field, when the reaper's work is done. Thou makest the winds 
thy ministers, or the floods thy servants, or the flames of fire 
thy instruments, and at once he sinks, he groans, he dies. Lord 
what is man, when disease lays hold upon him, when its poison 
preys upon his vitals, when the lightning's flash blasts his with- 
ered frame, or in any other way thou meetest him with the 
destiny of death? He is less than nothing. He cannot stand 
before thee. He is utterly consumed with terrors, and there is 
none to deliver him. 

Be taught, O man, thy impotence. Realize thy helpless de- 
pendence upon the omnipotence of Jehovah — even Him who 
"according to his fear so is his wrath." And how will you 
stand when he appeareth? What will you answer when he 
requireth? How can 3^ou resist his will, when he drives you 
from his presence and consigns your portion in everlasting 

*See Romans, xi. 22. tSee Psalms, xviii. 

tRom. iii. 5, 6. §Deut. xxxii. 39, and 46. 


darkness? Repent then and be converted, every one of you, 
while under the dispensation of forbearance and mercy, and 
ere you enter upon the retributions of eternal justice, when 
"the wrath of God which is revealed from heaven" will be 
inflicted on "every soul of man that doeth evil." 

And I heard again, and the voice said, behold the misery, the 
uncertainty and the vanity of life. Man is born to trouble, he 
is of few days and full of evil. He is distressed on every side ; 
without are perils, within are fears. He treads on ashes ready 
to burst out into flames. He walks on the verge of a crumbling 
brink. Death is in the air he breathes, the food he eats, the 
water he drinks, the ground he treads, the sea he traverses. In 
the midst of life he is in death. The calmest hour may usher 
in the tempest. The brightest hope may darken into despair. 
The fairest bud of promised happiness, may wither and decay. 
The mountain top of pleasure which he has ascended in antici- 
pative glee, may immerse him in the sudden mist and lure him 
to the precipitous and fatal overthrow. His homeward voyage, 
so full as it is of every buoyant and fond desire of coming 
bliss, is a nearer and speedier passage to the tomb. Hear, O 
man, a lesson of instruction. Behold the fashion of this vain 
and transitory world passeth away. Short is your respite from 
sorrow and death. Feeble your grasp of property or pleasure, 
and speedy your summons to the dreary mansions of the grave. 
Why then, cleave so fondly to a shadow? Why hug so closely 
this fleeting vision? Why, for these transitory joys, hazard 
immortality and immortal happiness? Lay not up your treas- 
ures on earth, where they are subjected to a thousand accidents ; 
but lay up your treasures in heaven, and set your heart and 
your affections upon that unfading, incorruptible, substantial 
and everlasting happiness proffered in the Gospel. 

Again was I admonished by this event of the stability of the 
laws and constitution of nature. These, like their great author, 
remain the same to-day, yesterday, and until their purposes are 
consummated. "There is no kicking against these pricks." 
There is no resistance to one jot or tittle of heaven's appoint- 
ment. As easily may we, unaided, turn back the tide of ocean, 
as prevent the consequences of our actions. The laws of our 
being move on immutably, and if infracted, their penalty must 
be met. If we will be imprudent we must suffer : and if we sin, 
we must meet the consequences of our guilt. Thus was this 
boat unseaworthy, unfit to brave the storms of ocean, and 
without strength before the rush of mighty waters. Neverthe- 
less did she attempt the perilous assault : and many were igno- 
rant enough, or thoughtless enough, or bold enough, to peril 
with her. And having done so, no power could intervene, or 
was permitted to do so, and save them from their consequent 

THS voice; of god in calamity. 247 

destruction. The plea of ignorance and of thoughtlessness 
will not shield the sinner from the fiery darts which will eter- 
nally issue from the hell of his own tormenting conscience. 
Future misery is necessarily consequent upon present and final 
impenitence ; and when in such a character we meet the storm 
of death, there is no arm can then deliver us from the everlast- 
ing perdition of ungodly men. Now then, behold now is the 
accepted time, now is the day of salvation. Such is the law — 
the decree — the appointment of heaven ; — such the irreversible 
plan, of God's righteousness, and our redemption. And this 
day of grace, and mercy passed, there is no more room for 
repentance. It will be forever too late. 

And I heard a fifth voice, saying, behold the wonders of that 
providence, which worketh all things according to the counsel 
of heaven's will. The miracle of God's providence is, that it 
accomplishes his mighty purposes without a miracle.* Man in 
his utmost wisdom, can but achieve one object, by one effort 
and design : God by a single event, can effect innumerable pur- 
poses. How many results were secured by this one, to us, most 
disastrous calamity? Some who have met their untimely end, 
may have provoked God — by their bold impiety and daring 
contumely — to this visitation of his wrath, and this display of 
his omnipotent power. Some may have exhausted their day of 
grace, and worn out the patience of their God, and were now 
overwhelmed in merited and righteous retribution. Some 
again, may thus suddenly, and without the pangs of long con- 
tinued misery, have been taken away from coming and greater 
evils. Some may have been caught up in this whirlwind, and 
charioted to glory. f And some may have been spared that they 
may fill up the measure of their iniquity and hardihood, or turn 
unto the Lord and find mercy. We have here, a certain decla- 
ration of the truth, that the present is' a time of forbearance, 
and the future, alone, a dispensation of unmingled, unrestrained 
justice. And we are here admonished, with all the earnestness 
derived from the certainty of our hastening doom, of the guilt 
of that presumption, which walks along the road of death with- 
out any fitness for it. 

And if the united and uncontradicted testimony of the sur- 
vivors, and I may now add, of the public committee appointed 

*See Natural History of Enthusiasm. 

tThis we may believe to have been the case with the Rev. George Cowles 
and lady. Previous to his departure from New York, he preached in the 
Lecture Room of the Central Church, "a discourse which will be long 
remembered," says the New York Observer, "for its impressive and solemn 
character." During the last scenes of this fatal tragedy on board the 
Home, he with his wife maintained the utmost composure, and even a 
serious willingness to depart. When last observed, they were reclining 
side by side on the luggage ; and a kind providence permitted a survivor 
to repeat as the last words which fell from the lips of Mr. Cowles, "He 
that trusts in Jesus is safe even amid the perils of the sea." 

248 the; voice; of god in cai,amity. 

by the city, to investigate the case, is correct, another lesson of 
pressing moment, is urged upon us — a lesson not the less true or 
forcible, should this calamity prove an exception to the many 
similar and woful examples of it, which our memory can pre- 
sent. It is the power of evil, the force and influence of sin, the 
mighty strength of a depraved habit, even in a single individual. 
"One sinner destroyeth much good." He brings ruin, not on 
himself merely, but upon all around him. He spreads the in- 
fection through his family, and household, and acquaintances ; 
there is no limit to his power of evil. He marshals troops 
around him, he arms them with the same weapons of rebellion 
and vice, and they march on together, to the same sure and cer- 
tain destruction. How often does a single sinner, by his single 
iniquity, involve in misery, a whole multitude of unoffending 
associates — associates from necessity, and not from choice, — 
pouring around him, as from the mouth of a volcano, desola- 
tion and death. Thus would it appear to have been here. By 
the most criminal indulgence of the commander, in that fatal 
poison, which is sweeping thousands, year by year, even from 
amid our own population, into an unprepared eternity — did he 
jeopard the lives of all on board. He, of course, was not 
responsible for the unfit construction of the vessel, unless, 
indeed, he had a voice in this also. But if through his neglect, 
or self-constituted incapacity, near one hundred persons were 
lost, when all, and perhaps all their property, might have been 
saved, does he not stand impleaded at the bar of heaven's 
chancery for such unpardonalDle waste of human life? And 
ought not the scowl and reprobation of the whole community to 
rest, if not upon him, (being supposed innocent,) yet assuredly 
upon the heads of those to whom such power is entrusted, only 
to be made the source of aggravated calamity. Even should 
this be rendered unjust in the case before us, by the clear proof 
of innocence, it is a subject upon which the community has 
slumbered, and the lesson itself is of practical application to us 
all. By indulging in the sin of unbelief, of intemperance, of 
gambling, or their kindred vices, we make ourselves fountains 
of pollution, and will stand chargeable, not merely with our 
own personal guilt, but with all that which has been contracted, 
or increased through our instrumentality. God holds us ac- 
countable, not only for our doings, but for our endeavours to 
do.* How fearful, then, the reckoning of the impenitent, or 
unchristian father, mother, friend ! 

There are other instructive lessons inculcated by this prov- 
idence ; as, for instance, the great importance of self-com- 
mand, and of cool, collected purpose ; the utter vanity of all 
merely human science, and fashionable accomplishments, and 

*Psalm xxviii. 


natural gifts, when brought to the trial of a dying hour; but 
these are such as readily suggest themselves to every mind. 
We shall conclude what it appears to us unnecessary to say, in 
connection with this subject, by urging upon your attentive 
consideration the wisdom of piety; the absolute necessity of 
being now and always ready and prepared to die. Die we 
must, some time, and in some manner, whether we travel or 
remain at home; whether we are shipwrecked or conveyed to 
our future dwelling-place by the gentler hand of some disease. 
Death is the great crisis of our mortal state, — the consumma- 
tion of our present being. It rolls that great stone to the door, 
which closes in our everlasting destiny, and which no power 
can move away. It seals our fate, not merely as it regards 
time, but as it is embraced in the eternity beyond. It may be 
momentary in its occurrence; it may be most humiliating in 
the manner of its approach ; this mortal coil may be shuffled off 
amid the wild contortions of despairing agony; but the conse- 
quences are unending, and of infinite and unspeakable moment. 
For, "after death, there is the judgment;" and this judgment is 
final, and its sentence everlasting life, or everlasting death. 

Seeing, then, brethren, that it is appointed unto us thus to die ; 
and seeing that in the present state of things we are left sub- 
ject to all the chances and trying incidents of unforeseen mis- 
fortune, is it not clearly our first, and great, and paramount 
duty, to prepare to meet our God? For except we timely 
repent, and seek the favor and mercy of our Judge, and are 
found in Christ, leaning upon the hope of salvation, as our 
anchor, and looking to heaven as our home — we shall all perish. 
Die as we may, and where we may, and when we may — at 
home, in old age, or amid the honors of society, we shall 
assuredly perish. Of these idividuals we only know that they 
perish bodily, but of all those who thus meet death, we are 
assured beyond all controversy, that God "will cast them both 
soul and body into hell, forever." "He that hath ears to hear 
let him hear." 

And while grateful to God for our continued lives, and mer- 
cies, and filled with the tenderest sympathy for the bereaved 
and distressed, let me beseech and entreat all, by the equal 
severity and mercy of God, now in this accepted time, in this 
day of salvation — not to harden their hearts, as they did who 
provoked him in the wilderness, and "perished in that great and 
terrible desert." 


Narrative of the Loss of the Steam-Packet Home. 

A narrative of the circumstances connected with the melan- 
choly event, which has been made the subject of the preceding 
discourse, may be very properly, and profitably appended to it. 
The pamphlet will, thus, contain a record, as well as an im- 
provement, of this disaster. The anxiety of the public mind, 
and especially of the friends of the lamented dead, to know all 
the particulars of their last sad hours, has not yet been grati- 
fied. Much confusion surrounds the representations hitherto 
given of the closing scenes of this catastrophe. Thus far, the 
subject has been investigated rather in its bearing upon the 
character of the boat, and the conduct of her commander. 
That veil has been but partially lifted up, which hid from us 
the distress of more than a hundred fellow beings, shut up to 
the awful prospect of remediless destruction. 

These deficiencies the author has endeavoured to supply, 
through the efficient and uncontrovertible evidence of the pas- 
sengers themselves. By their assistance, a list of the pas- 
sengers, both lost and saved, more full and accurate than any 
yet before the public, has been prepared. 

Having made these remarks, the author will introduce the 
account of the whole calamitous voyage, as it has been drawn 
up by Mr. Hussey, and approved by the other passengers now 
in Charleston. 

"Tn consequence of the various, and somewhat contradictory 
statements that have appeared before an anxious and suffering 
community, respecting the loss of the steam-packet Home, on 
her late passage from New- York to Charleston, it has been 
deemed advisable that a brief and impartial account of the loss 
of that ill-fated vessel, should be submitted to the public. The 
writer, who had ample opportunity of knowing many particu- 
lars of this melancholy catastrophe, has, therefore, consented 
to submit to the public, the following statement, which may be 
relied on as substantially correct. 

As it is not the object of the writer to influence public 
opinion, either in favour of, or against, any individual interested 
in this unfortunate vessel, he will endeavour to avoid any ex- 
pression which would be likely to have such an effect, further 
than a plain and disinterested statement may render necessary. 

252 appe;ndix. 

With these views, the following narrative is respectfully 
submitted to a candid and impartial public. 

The steam-packet Home, commanded by Captain White, left 
New- York, for Charleston, S. C, at 4 o'clock, p. m., on Satur- 
day, the 7th October, 1837, having on board between 80 and 
90 passengers, and 43 of the boat's crew, including officers, 
making in all about 130 persons. The weather, at this time, 
was very pleasant, and all on board appeared to enjoy in antici- 
tion a delightful and prosperous passage. On leaving the 
wharf, cheerfulness appeared to fill the hearts and enliven the 
countenances of this floating community. Already had con- 
jectures been hazarded, as to the time of their arrival at the 
destined port, and high hopes were entertained of an expedi- 
tious and pleasant voyage. Before six o'clock, a check to these 
delusive expectations was experienced, by the boat being run 
aground on the Romer Shoal, near Sandy Hook. It being ebb 
tide, it was found impossible to get ofif before the next flood ; 
consequently, the fires were allowed to burn out, and the boat 
remained until the flood tide took her ofif, which was between 
ten and eleven o'clock at night, making the time of detention 
about four or five hours. As the weather as perfectly calm, 
it cannot, reasonably, be supposed that the boat could have 
received any material injury from this accident: for during 
the time that it remained aground, it had no other motion than 
an occasional roll on the keel from side to side.* The night 
continued pleasant. The next morning, (Sunday,) a moderate 
breeze prevailed from the north-east. The sails were spread 
before the wind, and the speed of the boat, already rapid, was 
much accelerated. All went on pleasantly until about noon, 
when the wind had increased, and the sea become rough. At 
sunset the wind blew heavily, and continued to increase during 
the night : at daylight, on Monday, it had become a gale. Dur- 
ing the night much complaint was made, that the water came 
into the berths, and before the usual time of rising, some of the 
passengers had abandoned them on that account. 

The sea, from the violence of the gale, raged frightfully, and 
caused a general anxiety amongst the passengers ; but still, 
they appeared to rely on the skill and judgment of the captain 
and officers, — supposing, that every exertion would be used, on 
their part, for the preservation of so many valuable lives as 
were then entrusted to those who had the charge of this frail 
boat. Early on Monday, land was discovered, nearly ahead, 

*It is necessary, however, to state, that during this time there was great 
confusion on board. It was reported among the passengers, that the boat 
was on fire ; but it was afterwards understood the danger arose from the 
liability to explosion, in consequence of the want of water to supply the 
boilers. Whether at this time the pump, the want of which was afterwards 
so wofully felt, was disordered, we cannot determine. 


which, by many, was supposed to be False Cape, on the 
northern part of Hatteras. Soon after this discovery, the 
course of the boat was changed from southerly to south- 
easterly, which was the general course through the day, though 
with some occasional changes. The condition of the boat was 
now truly alarming: it bent and twisted, when struck by a 
sea, as if the next would rend it asunder : the pannels of the 
ceiling were falling from their places : and the hull, as if united 
by hinges, was bending against the feet of the braces. Through- 
out the day, the rolling and pitching were so great, that no cook- 
ing could be done on board. 

It has already been stated that the general course of the boat 
was during the day, south-easterly, and consequently in what is 
called the trough of the sea, — as the wind was from the north- 
east. Late in the afternoon, the boat was reported to be in 23 
fathoms of water, when the course was changed to a south- 
westerly. Soon after this it was observed, that the course was 
again changed, to north-westerly; when the awful truth burst 
upon us, that the boat must be filling: for we could imagine 
no other cause for this sudden change. This was but a 
momentary suspense; for within a few minutes all the pas- 
sengers were called on to bail, in order to prevent the boat 
from sinking. Immediately all were employed ; but with little 
effect; for, notwithstanding the great exertions on the part of 
the passengers, including even many of the ladies, the water 
was rapidly increasing, and gave most conclusive evidence, 
that, unless we reached the shore within a few hours, the boat 
must sink at sea; and probably not a soul be left lo communi- 
cate the heart-rending intelligence to bereaved and disconsolate 
friends. Soon after the boat was headed towards the land, 
the water had increased so much, as to reach the fire under the 
boilers, which was soon extinguished. Gloomy indeed was the 
prospect before us. With about one hundred and thirty per- 
sons, in a sinking boat, far out to sea, in a dark and tempestu- 
ous night, with no other dependence for reaching the shore 
than a few small and tattered sails, our condition might be 
considered truly awful. But with all these disheartening cir- 
cumstances, hope, delusive hope, still supported us. Although 
it was evident that we must soon sink, and our progress 
towards the land was very slow, still we cherished the expecta- 
tion that the boat would finally be run on shore, and thus most 
of us be delivered from a watery grave. Early in the afternoon, 
the ladies had been provided with strips of blanket, that they 
might be lashed to such parts of the boat as would afford the 
greatest probability of safety. 

In this condition, and with these expectations, we gradually, 
but with a motion nearly imperceptible, approached what to 

254 appe;ndix. 

many of us was an untried, and almost an unknown shore. At 
about eleven o'clock, those who had been employed in bailing 
were compelled to leave the cabin, as the boat had sunk until 
the deck was nearly level with the water; and it appeared too 
probable that all would soon be swallowed up by the foaming 
waves. The heaving of the lead indicated an approach to the 
shore. Soon was the cheering intelligence of "land! land!" 
announced by those on the look out. This, for a moment, 
aroused the sinking energies of all, when a general bustle 
ensued, in the hasty, but trifling preparations that could be 
made for safety, as soon as the boat should strike. But what 
were the feelings of an anxious multitude, when, instead of 
land, a range of angry breakers were visible just ahead; and 
land, if it could be seen at all, was but half perceptible in the 
distance far beyond. 

As every particular is a matter of interest, — especially to 
those who had friends and relatives on board, — it may not be 
improper to state, that one individual urged the propriety of 
lowering the small boats, and putting the ladies and children 
into them for safety, with suitable persons to manage them, 
before we struck the breakers. By this arrangement, had it 
been effected, it is believed that the boats might have rode out 
the gale during the night, and have been rescued in the morning 
by passing vessels, and thus all, or nearly all, have been saved. 
But few supported this proposition, and it could not be done 
without the prompt interference of those who had authority 
to command, and who would be obeyed. 

Immediately before we struck, one or two passengers, by the 
aid of some of the seamen, attempted to seek safety in one of 
the boats at the quarter, when a breaker struck it, swept it 
from the davits, and carried with it a seaman, who was 
instantly lost. A similar attempt was made to launch the long- 
boat from the uper deck, by the chief mate, Mr. Matthews, and 
others. It was filled with several passengers, and some of the 
crew ; but, as we were already within the verge of the breakers, 
this boat shared the fate of the other, and all on board (about 
ten in number) perished. 

Now commenced the most heart-rending scene. Wives 
clinging to husbands, — children to parents, — and women, who 
were without protectors, seeking aid from the arm of the 
stranger ; all awaiting the results of a moment, which would 
bring with it either life or death. Though an intense feeling 
of anxiety must, at this time, have filled every breast, yet, not 
a shriek was heard, nor was there any extraordinary exclama- 
tion or excitement or alarm. A slight agitation was, how- 
ever, apparent in the general circle. Some few hurried from 
one part of the boat to another, as if seeking a place of greater 


safety ; yet most, and particularly those who had the melan- 
choly charge of wives and children, remained quiet and calm 
observers of the scene before them. 

The boat, at length, strikes, — it stops — as motionless as a bar 
of lead. A momentary pause follows, — as if the angel of 
death shrunk from so dreadful a work of slaughter. But soon 
the work of destruction commenced. A breaker, with a 
deafening crash, swept over the boat, carrying its unfortunate 
victims into the deep. At the same time, a simultaneous rush 
was made toward the bows of the boat. The forward deck 
was covered. Another breaker came, with irresistible force, — 
and all within its sweep disappeared. Our numbers were 
now frightfully reduced. The roaring of the waters, together 
with the dreadful crash of breaking timbers, surpasses the 
power of description. Some of the remaining passengers 
sought shelter from the encroaching dangers, by retreating to 
the passage, on the lee side of the boat, that leads from the 
after to the forward deck, as if to be as far as possible from 
the grasp of death. It may not be improper here to remark, 
that the destruction of the boat, and the loss of life was, doubt- 
less, much more rapid than it otherwise would have been, from 
the circumstances of the boat keeling to windward, and the deck, 
which was nearly level with the water, forming, in conse- 
quence, an inclined plane, upon which the waves broke with 
their full force. 

A large portion of those who rushed into this passage, were 
ladies and children, with a few gentlemen who had charge of 
them. The crowd was so dense, that many were in danger of 
being crushed by the irresistible pressure. Here were perhaps 
some of the most painful sights beheld. Before introducing 
any of the closing scenes of individuals, which the writer wit- 
nessed, or which he has gathered from his fellow-passengers, 
he would beg to be understood, that it is not for the gratifica- 
tion of the idle curiosity of the careless and indifferent reader, 
or to pierce afresh the bleeding wounds of surviving friends, 
but to furnish such facts as may be interesting, and which, 
perhaps, might never be obtained through any other channel. 

As the immediate connections of the writer are already in- 
formed of the particulars relating to his own unhappy bereave- 
ment, there is no necessity for entering into a minute detail of 
this melancholy event. 

This passage contained perhaps thirty or more persons, con- 
sisting of men, women and children, with no apparent possi- 
bility of escape ; enclosed within a narrow aperture, over which 
was the deck, and both ends of which were completely closed 
by the fragments of the boat and the rushing of the waves. 
While thus shut up, death appeared inevitable. Already were 


both decks swept of every thing that was on them. The dining 
cabin was entirely gone, and every thing belonging to the 
quarter deck was completely stripped off, leaving not even a 
stanchion or particle of the bulwarks ; and all this was the 
work of about five minutes. 

The starboard wheel house, and every thing about it, was 
soon entirely demolished. As much of the ceiling forward of 
the starboard wheel had, during the day, fallen from its place, 
the waves soon found their way through all that remained to 
oppose them, and were in a few minutes time forcing into the 
last retreat of those who had taken shelter in the passage 
already mentioned. 

Every wave made a frightful encroachment on our narrow 
limits, and seemed to threaten us with immediate death. Hope- 
less as was the condition of those thus hemmed in, yet not a 
shriek was heard from them. One lady, unknown to the 
writer, begged earnestly for some one to save her. In a time 
of such alarm, it is not strange that a helpless female should 
plead with earnestness for assistance from those who were 
about her, or even offer them money for that aid which the 
least reflection would have convinced her, it was not possible 
to render. Another scene witnessed at this trying hour was 
still more painful. A little boy, (supposed to be the son of 
Hardy B. Croom, of Newbern, N. C.) was pleading with his 
father to save him. "Father," said the boy, "you will save me 
won't you; you can swim ashore with me; can't you, father?" 
But the unhappy father, was too deeply absorbed in the other 
charges that rested upon him, even to notice the imploring 
accents of his helpless child. For at that time, as near as the 
writer could judge, from the darkness of the place they were 
in, his wife hung upon one arm, and his daughter of seventeen, 
upon the other. He had one daughter besides, near the age of 
this little boy, but whether she was at that time living or not 
is uncertain. 

After remaining here some minutes, the deck overhead was 
split open by the violence of the waves, which allowed the 
writer an opportunity of climbing out. This he instantly did, 
and assisted his wife through the same opening. As he had 
now left those below, he is unable to say how they were finally 
lost, but as that part of the boat was very soon completely 
destroyed, their further sufferings could not have been much 
prolonged. We were now in a situation which, from the time 
the boat struck, we had considered as the most safe, and had 
endeavoured to attain. Here we resolved to await our uncer- 
tain fate. From this place we could see the encroachment of 
the devouring waves, every one of which reduced our thinned 
numbers, and swept with it parts of our crumbling boat. 

appe;ndix. 257 

For several hours previous, the gale had been sensibly abat- 
ing; and, for a moment, the pale moon broke through the dis- 
persing clouds, as if to witness this scene of terror and destruc- 
tion, and to show the horror-stricken victims the fate that 
awaited them. How few were now left, of the many who, 
but a little before, inhabited our bark! While the moon yet 
shone, three men were seen to rush from the middle of the 
stern of the boat. A wave came rushing on. It passed over 
the deck. One only, of the three, was left. He attempted 
to regain his former position. Another wave came. He had 
barely time to reach a large timber, to which he clung, when 
this wave struck him, — and he too was missing. As the wave 
passed away, the heads of two of these men were seen above 
the water ; but they appeared to make no effort to swim. The 
probability is, that the violence with which they were hurled 
into the sea disabled them. They sunk, — to rise no more. 

During this time, Mr. Lovegreen, of Charleston, continued 
to ring the boat's bell, which added, if possible to the gloom. 
It sounded, indeed, like the funeral knell over the departed 
dead. Never before, perhaps, was a bell tolled at such a 
funeral as this. While in this situation, and reflecting on the 
necessity of being always prepared for the realities of eternity, 
our attention was arrested by the appearance of a lady, climb- 
ing up on the outside of the boat, abaft the wheel near where 
we were. Her head was barely above the deck, on which we 
stood, and she was holding to it, in a most perilous manner. 
She implored help; without which she must soon have fallen 
into the deep beneath, and shared the fate of the many who 
had already gone. The writer ran to her aid, but was unable 
to raise her to the deck. Mr. Woodburn, of New- York, now 
came, and, with his assistance, the lady was rescued : she was 
then lashed to a large piece of timber, by the side of another 
lady, — the only remaining place that afforded any prospect of 
safety. The former lady (Mrs. Shroeder,) was washed 
ashore, on this piece of the wreck, — one of the two who sur- 
vived. The writer having relinquished to this lady the place 
he had occupied, was compelled to get upon a large piece of the 
boat, that lay near, under the lee of the wheel : this was almost 
immediately driven from its place into the breakers, which 
instantly swept him from it, and plunged him deep into the 
water. With some difficulty he regained his raft. He contin- 
ued to cling to this fragment, as well as he could; but was 
repeatedly washed from it. Sometimes, when plunged deep 
into the water, he came up under it. After encountering all 
the difficulties that seemed possible to be borne, he was, at 
length, thrown on shore, in an exhausted state. At the time 
the writer was driven from the boat, there were but few left. 

17— Vol. v. 


Of these four survived, viz., Mrs. Shroeder, and Mr. Love- 
green, of Charleston; Mr. Cohen, of Columbia, and Mr. Van- 
derzee, of New- York. 

On reaching the beach, there was no appearance of inhabi- 
tants but, after wandering some distance, a light was discov- 
ered, which proved to be from Ocracock light-house, — about 
six miles south-west of the place where the boat was wrecked. 
The inhabitants of the island, generally, treated us with great 
kindness ; and, as far as their circumstances would allow, 
assisted in properly disposing of the numerous bodies thrown 
upon the shore. 

The survivors, after remaining on the island till Thursday 
afternoon, separated, — some returning to New- York, others 
proceeding on to Charleston. Acknowledgment is due to the 
inhabitants of Washington, Newbern and Wilmington, as well 
as of other places through which we passed, for the kind hos- 
pitality we received, and the generous offers made to us. Long 
will these favors be greatfully remembered by the survivors 
of the unfortunate Home." 





Madame Boudo, Charleston, S. C. 
Madame Reviere, " 

Mrs. Hussey, " 

Mrs. Levy, " 

Miss F. Levy, " 

Miss O. Levy, " 

Mrs. Flinn, and 2 children, " 
Hardy B. Croom, and Lady," 
Miss Croom, " 

Miss J. Croom, " 

Master Croom, " 

Mrs. Cammack, " 

Mr. P. S. Cohen, 
Mr. H. A. Cohrs, 
Mr. S. G. Fuller, 
Mr. H. M. Tileston, 
Mr. C. Williman, 
Rev. G. Cowles, and Lady, Augusta, 

Prof. Nott, and Lady, Columbia, 

S. C. 
Mr. Desaybe, Lady, and Servant. 
Mr. Broquet, Lady, Child, and Ser- 
Mr. O. H. Prince, and Lady, Ath. 

Mrs. Hill, New-Hampshire. 
Mrs. Whiting. 
Mrs. Boyd. 
Mrs. Faugh. 

Mrs. Miller. 

Miss Stowe, Augusta, Georgia. 

Miss Roberts, South-Carolina. 

Mr. J. Root. 

Mr. J. M. Roll. 

Mr. G. H. Palmer. 

Mr. H. C. Bangs, Connecticut. 

Mr. Whiting. 

Mr. Wild. 

Mr. J. Paine, Mobile. 

Mr. A. F. Bostick, South-Carolina. 

Mr. A. Desaybe. 

Mr. F. Desaybe. 

Mr. T. Smith. 

Mr. Laroque. 

Mr. P. Domingues. 

Mr. Labadie. 

Mr. Walton. 

Mr. Hazard. 

Mr. Canthers. 

Mr. Finn. 

Mr. Woodburn, New- York. 

Mr. Richard Graham, " 

Mr. Sprott, Alabama. 

Mr. T. Anderson, Columbia, S. C. 

Mr. D. B. Toms, 

Mr. Kennedy, Darlington, S. C. 

Mr. Walker. 

Mr. Benedict, Augusta, Georgia. 

Mr. J. Boyd. 


Madame La Coste, Charleston, S. C. 

Mrs. Shroeder, " 

Mr. A. A. Lovegreen, " 

Mr. Charles Drayton, " 

Mr. B. B. Hussey, 

Mr. J. S. Cohen, Columbia, S. C. 

Mr. C. C. Cady, Montgomery, Ala. 

Mr. Thomas J. Smith, New- York. 

Mr. J. D. Roland, 

Mr. John Bishop, " 

Mr. J. Holmes, New- York. 

Mr. H. Vanderzee, " 

Mr. H. Anderson, " 

Capt. Hill, Portsmouth. N. H. 

Capt. Salter, 

Mr. Jas. Johnson, jun., Boston. 

Mr. W. S. Roed, New-Haven, Ct. 

Mr. D. Clock, Athens, Ga. 

Mr. John Mather. 

Conrad Quinn (boy), Jersey City. 

Of the Crew, there were in all forty-three, including the Captain, two 
Mates, the Chief Engineer, &c. : of these, the Captain, and nineteen of the 
boat's company alone were saved. The names of the crew not known. 






FRIDAY NIGHT, APRIL 27th, 1838. 



Sabbath, May 6, 1838. 





No. 296 King-Street. 

Printed by Jas. S. Burges, No. 85 East-Bay. 


Some apology might be thought necessary for the piibHca- 
tion of these discourses; but the occasion and the subject 
remove any such necessity. It is the duty of every citizen, 
at this awful crisis, to do his best to restore to the city, not 
only its material property, but its moral courage — to rouse it 
from the lethargic stupor of despair, and stimulate it to that 
healthful action which will resuscitate its fallen fortunes. To 
this end these discourses will, it is hoped, in some degree con- 
tribute. They may also constitute a memorial of the dreadful 
event. They may lead to profitable reflections. They may 
guide the willing, to the sure promises of heavenly rewards. 
And as the Author had occasion to speak through the public 
press, not long since, on a similar occasion, and not wholly in 
vain, he commends these discourses to an afflicted, but withal 
a spirited and christian community — a community which, on 
that occasion, and on the present, has fully redeemed its 
character for patriotism and humanity. 


Neh. II. 3. 

"Why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my 
fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with 

One woe is past, and behold another woe followeth hard 
after it. 

It is but a Httle while since we assembled here to bewail a 
calamity of almost unparalleled severity — to look out upon 
the angry deep, wrought into fearful tempest — to see the 
"Home,"* freighted with the lies of our fellow-citizens, 
borne down by the storm, and with her numerous victims, 
made the prey of the furious billows. Scarcely has that storm 
subsided. Its sounds of woe are still borne on the winds to 
other and distant lands. Its ravages are still visible in the 
tearful eye, in the downcast countenance, and the sorrowing 
heart of many a sufferer ; and in the vacant hearths yet silent. 

Another element has now been let loose upon us, and called 
us to mourning and lamentation. The sea lay calm and motion- 
less, sparkling beneath the placid light of the silvery moon. 
The weary winds were hushed into repose, or sported along 
the rippling tide, or among the flowers of the advancing spring. 
The fatigues of a sultry day had given place to the peaceful 
enjoyments of the domestic circle. Quietness reigned over the 
city, full of the cheerful anticipations which her brightening 
prospects had awakened in every breast. The couch of rest 
was inviting all, who were not called upon to watch the bed 
of sickness, to yield themselves to the sweet guardianship of 
"nature's kind restorer, balmy sleep." In short — Friday even- 
ing, April 27th, was one of those delightful seasons, interme- 
diate between the uncomfortable and oppressive heats of sum- 
mer, and the cold dark nights of winter, so luxuriously bland, 
which are peculiar to this climate. The weather for weeks 
previous had been dry, and left the city parched. This had 
given occasion to some anticipations of possible evil, which 
were as speedily forgotten amid the general appearance of 
increasing prosperity — for never had we seen Charleston give 
more indications of wide spread improvement than on this 
very evening as we passed homeward through it. 

It was about 9 o'clock when the "alarum bell did with his iron 
tongue and brazen mouth," sound forth the dreadful intelli- 

*Alluding to the loss of the Steam Packet Home. 


gence that the city was on fire. This sound pecuHarly exciting 
under all circumstances, when heard in the silent hour of dark- 
ness, has a strange and irresistible effect. And when on this 
"tragic melancholy night," the direction of the fire gave tokens 
of its possible extent, the commingled noise of the several bells 
of the city and the suburbs, was inexpressibly sublime. 

It was not long before the loud roar of the explosion, an- 
nounced that some dwelling which had, perhaps, but a few 
minutes before, been the scene of some domestic festival, was 
blown up, and that havoc and destruction had entered upon 
their work. By twelve o'clock at noon, in the short space of 
fifteen hours, the achievements of generations were prostrated 
in ruins. One third part of the entire city, containing one 
thousand inhabitants, many of them valuable stores, and more 
or less filled with costly goods, were thus swallowed up in a 
single night as the fuel for one insatiate conflagration; and 
five thousand individuals, driven from their burning houses at 
the dead of night, to seek protection from the fire, and shelter 
from the season. Thus has Charleston been suddenly de- 
stroyed. "Desolation and destruction are come unto her. The 
Lord has come with fire to render his anger with fury, and 
his rebuke with flames of fire. The Lord has a controversy 
with us. Therefore has he called to contend by fire, and 
caused this city to be burnt with fire, and swept it with the 
besom of destruction." 

The storm had passed by. The pestilence had retired. But 
God has made "the flames of fire his ministers," to execute 
his will, to proclaim his irresistible power, to arouse careless 
and unthinking mortals, to impress all hearts with the great 
lessons of judgment and eternity, and to hold up to universal 
observation the utter nothingness of all sublunary good. "Thus 
desolation upon desolation is cried, for the city is spoiled." 

What can be more appropriate to us this day than the lan- 
guage of the distressed Nehemiah, found Neh. ii. 3. "Why 
should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place 
of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof 
are consumed with fire ?" 

Nehemiah was of the tribe of Judah, and of the royal family. 
He was at this time cup-bearer to Artaxerxes, King of Persia ; 
in the enjoyment of wealth, luxury, and honor. But he hears 
the tidings of the misery and distress of his fatherland. He 
is made acquainted with the waste and ruined desolation of 
Jerusalem, and the poverty and wretchedness of its inhabi- 
tants. The spark of liberty is enkindled in his bosom. He 
burns with a patriot ardour. He forgets himself in his coun- 
try, and his own comforts in the miseries of his countrymen. 
He is determined, if possible, to sacrifice himself, and all he 

discourse; first. 267 

possesses, to the resoration of their fallen grandeur and pros- 
perity. He appears therefore before the king, with the sorrow 
of his heart exhibited in his countenance. "Wherefore the 
king said unto me, Why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou 
art not sick ; this is nothing else but sorrow of heart. Then I 
was very sore afraid. And said unto the king. Let the king 
live forever ; why should not my countenance be sad, when the 
city, the place of his fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the 
gates thereof are consumed with fire ?" 

The countenance of Nehemiah was sad because the city of 
Jerusalem was destroyed — because its walls were thrown 
down — because its gates were consumed with fire, its houses 
in ruins, and its inhabitants scattered, or in captivity — because 
the sepulchres of his fathers were laid waste and trodden by 
every reckless passenger — and above all, because the temple, 
the sanctuary of his God, the place where his fathers wor- 
shipped, had been burnt up. And why then, as possessing the 
common sympathies of human nature, the reverence of a child, 
the home feeling of a citizen, and the love of a patriot, why 
should not his countenance be sad? Reason, nature, religion, 
demanded as their tribute on this melancholy review, the sad- 
ness of his countenance, and the grief of the heart. 

And why, my hearers, should not our countenances be this 
day sad? We have seen "the flaming flame, which could not 
be quenched, devouring before, and destroying behind," and 
shall we not be sad? We have seen it "burning up all the 
houses of joy in the joyous city," overwhelming in its common 
ruins "every great man's house," and every poor man's habita- 
tion, sweeping in desolation over the abode of decrepit age and 
worn out agony, and shall we not be sad? We have seen 
house after house, and block after block, and square after 
square, and street after street vanish before the devouring 
element, until the magnificence of the city was destroyed, and 
shall we not be sad? "We have heard the noise of the flame 
of fire that burneth," as it moved on in terrific majesty, en- 
gulphing in remediless destruction, a great bulk of the com- 
merce of the city, and shall we not be sad ? 

Of the great portion of the most crowded districts, we may 
now say, "How doth the city sit solitary that was full of peo- 
ple, how is she become as a widow; she weepeth sore in the 
night, and her tears are on her cheeks. Her walls lament and 
rnourn, and she, being desolate, sits upon the ground. She 
lies prostrate in the dust. She sits in silence an in darkness. 
Charleston is made a heap of ruins, and her streets, which 
were thronged with people, are desolate without inhabitant." 
"Why then should not our countenance be sad, when the city, 


the place of our fathers' sepulchres lieth waste, and the gates 
thereof are consumed with fire?" 

Never can we forget the awful sublimity of this dreadful 
scene. The mind was filled with the ideas of loss and priva- 
tion, of danger and of pain. Astonishment seemed to suspend 
all the powers of the soul. One single thought, that of the 
passing scene of horror, engrossed it. With the advancement 
of the flames the spectator seemed to feel himself borne onward 
with them. In the sound of the tocsin of alarm he hurried 
from the approach of the all-devouring death. In the explosion 
he heard, as it were, the groans of the expiring. This horror 
was increased by the obscu'rity in which all things were 
involved ; 

for now the thickened sky, 
Like a dark ceiling stood ; 

while the volumes of smoke "rode in the dusky air," and swept 
along in most portentous gloom. Add to this the power with 
which the flames overmastered all human might and skill, and 
drove the scorched multitude before them — the various direc- 
rections in which, at the same moment, they directed their 
terrific course, bafiling all human calculation and foresight, 
and involving, in their burning, the habitations of those who 
thought themselves remote from the scene of desolation. And 
then there was the apparent impossibility, by any force of 
man, in the scarcity of water, and the failing strength of the 
exhausted workmen, of making any stand against the over- 
leaping torrent. There was, too, the suddenness with which 
the flame enveloped its prey, lapped it with its tongue of fire, 
and then devoured it. And to consummate this scene of over- 
powering terror, there was the incessant and mingled shouts 
of the multitude in all directions, the unceasing efforts of the 
householders to remove their effects, the running to an fro 
of carriers of goods, the driving of carts laden with their hasty 
spoil, and the miserable spectacle of houseless wanderers 
stretched about upon some rescued bedding, and again driven 
by the approaching flames, to seek some new refuge. No 
wonder then that universal consternation sat on every counte- 
nance, and fear took up its residence in every heart, and mute 
astonishment prostrated the energies of every mind. No one 
could feel that he was finally secure, or that he was at any 
moment safe, for where there was no flame, the flaky sparks 
borne on the increasing wind, now swelled almost into a gale, 
were conveyed to the most distant parts of the city, while the 
fire traversed the very current of the breeze, and forced itself 
a passage against every barrier. Buildings which were sup- 
posed to be proof against all attack, or which sat alone, far 
removed from the contagion of proximate dwellings, yielded 


to its all powerful force, and while resisting in one direction, 
w'ere assailed and conquered in another. 

Selfishness became necessarily the general law, for who 
was not suffering in his own, or in the property of his friends ? 
Hence it was that many, with their moveables all in readiness 
for preservation, were obliged to stand by and see them swal- 
lowed up in the unconquerable flames, because there were none 
to be found who would remove them. How much too, that 
had been, at every expense of toil and trouble, carefully taken 
away to some place of fancied security, was overtaken by the 
unescapeable flood. 

In the short space of this dread night, how many awful 
scenes were witnessed, how much misery was introduced, how 
many dreams of prosperity were broken, how many active 
energies paralysed, how many plans of public improvement 
suddenly and wofully arrested! How many individuals, 
when unroofed and shelterless, by the destruction of their 
own garnished habitations, turned their thoughts to the New 
Hotel, the pride and glory of the city, and the centre of so 
much anticipated attraction, as to a future home. It seemed 
as if "twere not in fate itself to harm it." It rose, as it were, 
a bulwark: against the tide of battle, an impenetrable barrier 
to the proud and indomitable flames. Perhaps this very con- 
ception of invincibility proved, as it has done to many a brave 
army, the source of its sad and fatal overthrow. Melancholy 
spectacle of fallen greatness! 

Would, my hearers, that this were all, and that we were 
called upon this day to lament only the destruction of earth's 
perishable substance. Alas ! alas ! with the ruins of our city, 
lie buried the remains of the fallen — the fearless dead. Let 
the memory of Steedman, and of Schneirle be associated with 
the undying recollection of this calamity in undecaying honor. 
They fell in the public cause. They are sacrifices to their 
zeal for the public safety. They hazarded their own lives for 
the preservation of the property of others. And if they ex- 
posed themselves with what, in the judgment of cool reflection, 
appears unnecessary recklessness, they were overcome, we may 
hope, by the ardour of their devotion to the interests of 
humanity. Let then the tear of sympathy be mingled with the 
sorrows of their bereaved families. Let us weep with them 
while they weep, and sustain them by our prayers and our 
consolation. To thee, lamented Steedman, however widely 
separated we may have been in religious sentiment, let me pay 
this just tribute of most deserved respect. In thee the public 
has lost one who rallied to her in her utmost need — the city, 
a most public spirited and useful citizen — the prosperity of 
Charleston, a warm and zealous abettor — the family, an hon- 


ored and beloved head. But what is more, thou art gone who 
wert the stay of the widow, the protector of the fatherless, the 
friend of the needy, the defence of the helpless, and the sick 
man's comforter. "The blessing of him that was ready to 
perish came upon thee, and thou didst cause the widow's heart 
to sing for joy."* 

*The following obituary notice of Col. Steedman was presented to the 
Fellowship Society of this city, of which he was President, by R. Yeadon 
Jr. Esq., in a warm and eloquent tribute to the memory of his deceased 
friend. [See the Courier of Monday. May 7th.] It is, with permission, 
inserted here : 

"Coi.. Steedman was born in this city, on the 9th day of November, 
1783, received a good school education, although interrupted before it was 
complete, at the Charleston College, under the Rev. Dr. Buist, and was 
originally brought up to the Cooper's trade. Marrying, however, in early 
manhood, he settled as a planter in the Parish of St. James Santee, whence 
he was sent as a Representative to the State Legislature. On the 7th 
December, 1807, he was chosen by the Legislature, to the office of Sheriff 
of Charleston District— at that time a source of considerable emolument, 
and an object of much competition. On the 8th May, 1811, he was elected 
first President of the Planters' and Mechanics' Bank, in this city ; and on 
the severance of his connexion with that institution, he returned to the 
occupation of a planter, and represented for a series of years, the Parish 
already named, in the popular branch of the Legislature, of which he was 
an attentive, efficient, and influential member, ultimately filling the impor- 
tant financial post of Chairman of the Committee of Ways and Means. 
During the war with Great Britain, he received, from Governor Alston, the 
appointment of Waggon Master General, an important station in the civil 
department of the State Militia, from which he derived his military title. 
He was also connected with the Militia, as an officer of the Ancient Batal- 
lion of Artillery, a corps which still lingers among us. as a relic and 
memento of the day of revolutionary peril and revolutionary glory. In 
1820 he was sent by Governor Bennett as Agent of the State, to obtain 
from the authorities, at Washington, an adjustment and settlement of the 
claims of this State, against the General Government, for advances and 
expenditures during the war with Britain — a responsible trust which he 
ably and faithfully discharged. In the year 1823, he again settled in 
Charleston, in embarrassed circumstances, and was, for a time, connected 
with the City Gazette, as part proprietor, and commercial and business 
editor. In 1828, he was appointed by President Jackson, to the station of 
Naval Officer of this port, a highly responsible post in the Custom House, 
requiring great industry and business talents of a high order, for the 
proper discharge of its duties. In this poorly compensated office, although 
second in point of dignity, in the department of the Customs, he toiled 
with unwearied industry to the day of his death. His connexion with this 
Society commenced on the l.'ith June, 1808, on which day he was elected 
a member. In 1809, although so recent a member, he was elected Junior 
Warden, and was re-elected to the same office the ensuing year. On the 
Anniversary, in March, 1811, overleaping the intermediate grade, he was 
first elected President of this Society ; but retired after two annual terms of 
service, the principle of rotation, or at least frenuent change in office, 
having been at that time established by general consent. In March, 1828, 
he was again chosen President of the Society, from that period to the last 
anniversary inclusive, he was annually re-elected, the Society having 
become satisfied that a permanent officer was best for its interests. 

"The death of our late President and friend took place, as you all know, 
on the morning of the 28th ult., vmder circumstances honorable to his 
character, for intrepidity and philanthropy, and enlisting the deep sympathy 
and unfeigned regrets of our whole community. He played an active and 
efficient part during the disastrous conflagration, of that morning and the 
previous night, which has laid so large and so fair a portion of our city in 
ruins and ashes. After a series of exertions in aid of his fellow citizens, 
he met his melancholy and untimely fate, from the premature explosion of 
a keg of powder, while he was engaged in blowing up a house at the corner 


But to proceed. As contrast heightens the impressiveness 
of any scene of distress, so was the gloom of this dreadful 
visitation deepened by the surrounding shades of night, with 
its dense canopy of accumulated vapors, reddened by the glare 
of the ascending flames, and shaken by the thundering roar of 
the exploding powder. Night is the time for rest and calm 
repose. It is the appropriated domain of silence and contem- 
plation. To the observing mind of the poet, the painter, or the 
thoughtful christian, "how beautiful is night," "the world. 

Rests, and her tired inhabitants have paused 
From trouble and turmoil. The widow now 
Has ceased to weep, and her twin orphans lie 
Locked in each arm, partakers of her rest. 
The man of sorrow has forgot his woes ; 
The outcast, that his head is shelterless. 
His grief unshared, * * * 

silence and deep repose 
Reign all around." 

But who can express the horror of that night ; 

When darkness lent his robes to monster fear — 

when imminent danger lurked under its black mantle, stole 
along through its silent walks, and burst like an avalanche 
upon the drowsy city — when the new made widow began to 
weep — the orphans bewailed their stricken parent — the man 
of joy became the man of sorrow — the safe and comfortable 
were exposed shelterless, to poverty and nakedness, and hunger 
— when the watchers over the dying couch, who had moved 
in tipeoe quietness, were obliged to hurry off their dying friend 
through the dangerous confusion — and when noise and wake- 
fulness filled the city, and every inhabitant was agonized by 
anxiety and suspense. 

Such, my brethren, is an unavailing effort to pourtray some 

of East Bay and Hassell-streets. The ruins of the building were pre- 
cipitated upon him, and he was crushed under the pressure. He was 
heard, however, to call for assistance, and was cheerfully answered, but 
before he could be extricated, another keg exploded, and when his body was 
removed from the ruins it was shockingly mangled and disfigured, and the 
vital spark was utterly extinct. Thus, while yet in manly prime and use 
fulness did he perish, illustrating in his death that practical philanthropy 
which was the distinguishing trait of his character in life. The public 
authorities of the city, and a numerous concourse of citizens paid him the 
fimeral honors due to his character and services, and, amid the tears of 
relatives and friends, and the warm gush of universal sympathy, his remains 
were deposited in the cemetery of St. Philip's church. 

"It may not be out of place to pause at the close of this melancholy 
narrative, to pay the passing tribute to the intrepid SchniErlE. and his com- 
panion in misfortune and death, the gallant Peart, who. as in case of our 
lamented President, perished by an explosion, intended to arrest, and 
which succeeded in arresting the march of the conflagration in another 
quarter of the city. They were all alike self-sacrificed in the service of 
their fellow citizens — in the cause of humanity ; and their shocking deaths, 
incurred in the very moment of noble and generous daring, will embalm 
and hallow their memories in the hearts of our people. They all died in 
the public service, and the widows and families, of such of them as have 
left widows and families, if left in need, should be the public care." 


of the horrors of that calamity, we are met to deplore. Of 
all possible modes of destruction, fire is the most awful, from 
its power, its suddenness, its irrisistible and overwhelming 
force, and all its attendant circumstances of horror. The field 
of carnage is truly dreadful, "for every battle of the warrior 
is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood;" but 
when God would bring upon his sinning people a still fiercer 
visitation, he forewarns them that "this shall be with burning 
and fuel of fire." 

This calamity then, whatever may have been its secondary 
origin, must be traced to the ultimate disposition of the provi- 
dence of God. "Shall there be evil in the city, and the Lord 
hath not done it?" God has often appeared in fire. Fire is 
the symbol of his holiness, justice, and wrath. These are 
represented as "a fiery stream issuing and coming forth from 
before him," and God, in his fury, and in the execution of his 
vengeance upon his enemies, is represented as "a consuming 
fire."* The torments of Hell are thus depicted by fire, both 
in the Old and New Testament.f Fire, therefore, may be 
regarded as an instrument of God, employed by Him in exe- 
cuting the purposes of His providence. "A fire hath gone 
out, it hath consumed us," because God hath purposed it. 
"Wherefore, my hearers, glorify God in the fire." 

There are some lessons of an impressive character we are 
certainly called upon to learn from this calamity ; and which 
we cannot fail to impress upon you, but we will omit them at 
this present moment, that we may at once encourage your 
sunken hearts. 

In the midst of judgment God has remembered mercy. He 
has not forgotten to be gracious. How much more aggra- 
vated might our calamity have been. Our entire city is not 
destroyed as was the city over which Nehemiah mourned. We 
do not see such a wilderness as was presented in London when 
the ruins of one fire covered four hundred and thirty six 
acres of ground, embracing 13,000 houses, 86 churches, and 
400 streets. Nor is the present devastation, in comparison, 
as great as that which, in the year 1740, laid one half of 
Charleston in ruins, consuming three hundred of the best and 
most convenient buildings. Neither is our distress as great 
as it was in the year 1742, when by an awful hurricane almost 
every tiled and slated house in this city was uncovered, the 
fortifications and wharves almost entirely demolished, pro- 
visions destroyed, numberless cattle, and many human beings 
drowned ; and when, but for a sudden change of the wind, 
every inhabitant of Charleston must have perished. 

*See Dan. vii. 10, and Deut. iv. 24. 

tSee Deut. xxii. 22. Is. xxxiii. 14, and Ixvi. 24. Mark ix. 44. Matth. 
XXV. 41. 


How much more aggravated would have been the sufferings 
of those who have been unhoused, had they been driven into 
the streets during the severity of a winter night. And let it 
never be forgotten, that great and most meritorious as were 
the exertions of all who attempted to stay the progress of the 
flames, their final termination is to be referred to the inter- 
position of providence in the change of the wind. "Behold 
then the goodness as well as the severity of God." 

As fire tests the true gold, and purifies and refines without 
destroying it, so is this fire designed to test our characters, and 
to lead to our improvement and advantage. "Desolation and 
destruction is come upon us," but He who has prostrated can 
raise us up — He who has wounded can make whole — He who 
has empoverished can again enrich us. He who commissions this 
desolating scourge, is He also who "redeemeth from destruc- 
tion." Under his guidance the swollen sea will open to us a 
passage through it, the wilderness will lead to a land of promise 
— the night will be as the day, and the darkness light about us. 
"Wherefore glorify God in this fire." He has permitted it to 
come upon you, and to bring sudden destruction to your city, 
but he has not left you to walk through it alone. He is him- 
self with you. The Son of Man is with you. The Spirit, the 
Comforter is with you. Yours are the promises of God. 
Yours the offers of his grace and mercy. Yours his very 
present and all sufficient help. Yours the blessed hope of a 
glorious inheritance in a world which is incorruptible and 

Diogenes, when asked what he gained by his philosophy, 
answered that he was ad omnem fortunam paratus, prepared 
for every vicissitude of fortune. This proud boasting philo- 
sophy could also say, si fractus illabitur orbis impavidam 
ferient ruince, should the broken world itself fall, its ruins will 
strike an undaunted spirit. But what philosophy could only 
boast, Christianity can accomplish, and it is yours to exemplify. 
"Wherefore glorify God in this fire." "Hope in God and you 
shall yet praise him." Hope is our earthly heritage. We are 
saved by hope. Life is a stormy sea, heaved by a thousand 
tempests — Hope is the anchor of the soul, by which it is pre- 
served sure and steadfast. Life is at its best estate, a warfare 
against danger, death and dark vicissitude ; — hope is the helmet 
which guards the soul from every violent assault. Life is too 
often the wreck of every earthly prospect, when we find our- 
selves whirled from our giddy height and plunged into the 
fathomless abyss — hope is that voice from heaven, which says, 
"Lift up your head for your redemption draweth nigh." If 
believers in the days of Cyprian could remain immoveable inter 
ipsas seculi ruinas, among the ruins of the world itself, surely 
we can bear up amid the ruins of a city. 
18— Vol. v. 

274 discourse: f^irst. 

Patience is one of the noblest of the graces, and to bear well 
is no less glorious than to act well. To his faith the christian 
is required to add fortitude. We glorify God by walking 
unhurt, and with an unblemished faith, through the fires more 
than we do by the unsuffering obedience of prosperity. Sub- 
mit your souls therefore to God in patience. "To strive with 
him is folly; to murmur at any part of his government is rebel- 
lion ; to imagine that things might have been better is to blas- 
pheme his wise and just providence." It is the prerogative of 
christians to give thanks in adversity. It was therefore the 
prayer of the martyr Bradford, "God forgive me my unthank- 
fulne&s for this exceeding great mercy, that among so many 
thousands he chooseth me to suffer for him." 

Our destruction has come upon us as a whirlwind, but as a 
whirlwind it will pass over. The night will soon be gone, and 
the morning burst upon us with new and brightning prospects. 
Nothing can destroy the fair and reasonable anticipations of 
the coming prosperity of this queen city of the South but her 
own recreance. Arise then from the dust. Shake off despair. 
Look away from the present to the future. Remember the 
years that are gone and the results of former assiduity. Be 
thankful that you have the same powers of body — the same 
faculties of mind — the same and greater openings for activity — 
the sympathy of the entire country, and the consolations and 
triumphs of religion. 

A sister city is now struggling through a similar visitation, 
the traces of which are even now scarcely discoverable. Charles- 
ton, too, with a population of some 10,000, and in the days of 
her minority, when she had to contend also against the pesti- 
lence and the savage, uplifted herself from beneath the ashes 
of a still heavier calamity. Many and gloomy have been her 
days of darkness. But she has outlived them all. The clouds 
have scattered. Difficulties have yielded. Obstructions almost 
invincible are being overcome. The tide of prosperity has set 
in upon her. She is borne aloft upon its waves, and is on her 
march to glory. And shall this storm wreck her hopes? We 
trust in that God whose anger we have deprecated, whose favor 
we have sought ; in the public spirit of her Council, and her 
guardian Legislature ; in the energy, zeal, and munificent liber- 
ality of her citizens ; in the united efforts of all hearts and all 
hands ; we confidently trust it will not ; but that like the pros- 
trate Jerusalem, which, under the patriotic exertions of Nehe- 
miah, rose in a few years rebuilt and replenished to her former 
glory, Charleston will date from this event, not her overthrow, 
but that established pre-eminence to which, by her natural and 
political condition she is assuredly destined. Which may God 
in infinite goodness grant, and to his name shall be all the 


Neh. II. 3. 

"Why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my 
fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed zvith 

Your attention, my hearers, has been already called to that 
calamitous fire which has "consumed to destruction" so large 
and fair a portion of our city.* I have endeavored to present 
an outline of this dreadful visitation, by which 1,000 houses 
have been left in smoking ruins ; by which, property to the value 
of several millions of dollars, has been reduced to ashes; by 
which many lives have been cut off, and as many individuals 
hurried, without warning or opportunity of preparation, into 
the presence of the Judge of the whole earth. Nor is even this 
the extent of his woful consequences. The current of pros- 
perity which was flowing in upon our city has been, for a time 
at least, turned back, and its channels blocked up. Stagnation 
of business must, also, to some extent ensue. But what is still 
more to be dreaded, is the paralysis of public spirit, the over- 
throw of public confidence, the crushing of the energy and in- 
dustry of the people. To obviate these evils, as far as in his 
power is unquestionably the duty of every good citizen, as it 
is the dictate of humanity and religion. 

It was our effort this morning to present some considera- 
tions which might prove encouraging to your depressed minds 
and stimulate you in your efforts to retrieve your fallen for- 
tunes, and to restore yourselves and the city to more than their 
former prosperity. 

As a city, and as a congregation, we have outwardly at least 
humbled ourselves before Almighty God, whose prerogative it 
is to give and to take away, who maketh sore and bindeth up, 
and who causeth all things to work together for good to those 
who love him, and put themselves under the shadow of his 
wings. It is the Lord who hath now consumed us — because of 
our iniquities — because we have refused correction — because 
we have backslidden — and have loved and served the creature 
more than the Creator, who is alone worthy of our supreme 

*Among the buildings which were burned were five Churches : 

1. The Roman Catholic Chapel, in Hassell-street. 

2. The Jewish Synagogue, in Hazel-street. 

3. The Methodist or Trinity Church, in Hazel-street. 

4. The Protestant Methodist Church, in Wentworth-street. 

5. The New Lecture Room of the Second Presbyterian Church, in 


love, homage, and adoration. "Behold the Lord cometh out of 
his place to punish the inhabitants of" this city, "to pluck up 
and to pull down and to destroy it." Let us not, my brethren, 
dispise the chastening of the Lord, neither be weary of his cor- 
rection. Let it not be said of us, as it was of Israel, of old, 
"He has stricken us but we have not grieved, he has consumed 
us but we have refused to return." Let us not thus "provoke 
the Lord to jealousy, and cause his wrath to smoke against us" 
until we shall "hear from, the Lord God of hosts, a consump- 
tion determined upon the whole city." Rather "let us search 
and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord; let us lift up our 
hands to God in the heavens. Let us arise and pour out our 
hearts like water before the Lord ; turn to him that smiteth us, 
and seek the Lord of Hosts." Come my brethren as the people 
of his choice, the sheep of his pasture, and the members of his 
church, "let us return unto the Lord for he hath torn and he 
will heal us." 

Let our humanity be that of the heart and not of the counte- 
nance. Let our repentance be such as shall not need to be 
repented of. Let our sorrow be that godly sorrow that will 
bring in the peaceable fruits of righteousness, lead to new 
obedience, and be within us a spring tide of love and devoted- 
ness to God. And let us not merely bow our souls in view of 
our own personal deficiencies, but also in the contemplation of 
our sinfulness as a church, and the common guilt of our entire 
community. Let us "sigh and cry for all the abominations that 
be done, in the midst thereof, weeping between the porch and 
the altar," until it shall please God to remove the rod of his 
anger, to turn unto him the hearts of all men, and to glorify 
himself in the advancement of pure and undefiled religion. 

Having thus propitiated our offended God through the inter- 
cessions of his Son, our Saviour, and the assistance of the Holy 
Ghost, the Help and Comforter of his people, let us hold our- 
selves in readiness, to discharge, to the utmost of our ability, 
the oflfices of kind and sympathizing humanity; and in every 
possible way to lend our helping hand in promoting every wise 
plan for the resuscitation of our fallen city. This is all that is 
necessary to secure her redemption from this sad captivity — to 
invigorate her languid pulse, to nerve her lifeless arm, and to 
restore to the entire body health and soundness. 

Thus, Brethren, having presented before you the special con- 
siderations, I felt it to be my privilege and duty, as officially 
entrusted with the oversight of the moral and spiritual well- 
being of this congregation, to make upon this disastrous fire — 
let me, in the light, I might almost literally say, of this subject, 
direct your attention to some important lessons. 

discourse: se;cond. 277 

Few among those now addressed require to be informed as 
to the great principles of practical religion, but we all require 
to have them continually impressed upon our reluctant and for- 
getful hearts, "line upon line and precept upon precept, here a 
little and there a little." 

I. In this calamitous event we have had a powerful exhibi- 
tion of the truth and inveteracy of that depravity which the 
Scriptures charge upon the unconverted heart of man. Not 
that I arraign the character of this city as peculiarly heinous 
in its ofifensiveness to a pure and holy God. Not that I attempt 
to scan the secret purpose of this visitation, or to trace out its 
unseen connexion with those vices which may possibly have 
been its moral source. I am fully aware that as far as secon- 
dary causes are concerned, the whole progress of ruin may be 
clearly accounted for. But in this very event itself, and in the 
development of human character which it made, there was a 
fearful picture of the innate, entire, invincible depravity of the 
heart of man. Whose soul was not oppressed by melancholy 
reflections, in beholding the scenes of that night of terrors? 
Not merely do we speak of the possibility of the origination or 
spread of the contagious ruin by the diabolical act of some in- 
cendiaries. How many hearts seemed to riot in joy amid the 
devouring flames, even as does the blood-thirsty tiger upon the 
carcase of the torn victim. How many hurried to the smoking 
ruins, not to save but to destroy, not to preserve but to pilfer, 
not to relieve the distressed, but to aggravate their losses and 
harrow up their wounds by the added bitterness of human 
treachery. What the flames spared in mercy, was thus con- 
sumed by the more ruthless hand of man. To have saved 
property from fire was no security from thievish cunning, and 
many whom the fire left comparatively rich are thus made com- 
paratively poor. Human misery it was all necessary to guard 
from human depravity, and men were to be seen, like the jack- 
alls of the forest, skulking about, until the satiated monster had 
retired and relinquished his prey to their more famished jaws. 
Hell was visaged by that awful night, not merely in the smoke 
ascending up continually — in the lurid flames gleaming terribly 
through the horrid darkness — in the frequent roar, as it were, 
the convulsion of some fresh pit of bottomless despair — and in 
the wailing shouts of lamentation: — but as powerfully, in the 
hellish passions of selfishness and rage, which were let loose — 
in the dreadful imprecations which were blasphemously poured 
forth by countless tongues, as if in stout defiance of Him who 
ruled the pestilence of fire — in the abandoned shamelessness 
with which vice spread its net for the ruin of souls even amid 
the flames — in that amazing hardihood with which so many 
were found inebriating their brain and depriving themselves of 

278 discourse: second. 

reason, and in which condition, it is feared, one poor man lay 
down upon a bed of burning and of untimely death. Yes — had 
it not been for the presence of so many of the generous and 
humane, one might well have believed that the gates of hell 
were opened, its flames escaped, and that its incarcerated vic- 
tims were seen rioting in their earthly pandemonium. 

How true is the representation which the Scripture gives of 
the unconverted and unsanctified heart of man, "The heart of 
man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. For 
from within, out of the heart of man proceed evil thoughts, 
adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covetousness, wicked- 
ness, deceit. Their throat is an open sepulchre. With their 
tongues they have used deceit. The poison of asps is under 
their lips. Their mouth is full of cursing and bitterness. Their 
feet are swift to shed blood. There is no fear of God before 
their eyes."* 

II. But again. Let us be taught by this calamity the insta- 
bility of all earthly property. There is nothing sure under the 
sun. Mountains may be moved from their firm base and val- 
leys be exalted ; islands may be formed, become inhabited, and 
vanish, and all the glorious works of man disappear like the 
morning cloud, or the early dew. Vain is the strength of man 
against the resistless power of death, and equally vain is all 
material force against the subduing power of the raging flame. 
How lately did this city shine forth in all the beauty of her 
wide spread improvements, covered with the garments of fresh 
and lively colors, and speaking the promise of a long continu- 
ance. As the winter stream, swollen by the mountain snows, 
rolls on its deepening waters to the ocean, so did her busy com- 
merce seem to move in firm and lasting channels ; but as that 
stream disappears before the burning sun, and is consumed 
away by the drought of summer, so has this burning fire swal- 
lowed up the hopes of our citizens. Like the thirsty pilgrim of 
the desert when he finds his fountain gone, and vainly seeks for 
water, they sigh for their loved inheritance, they look for their 
comfortable homes, and faint away when behold, they are not. 
Evening crowned the city with peace and plenty, and general 
contentment — night brought the loud alarm — midnight saw its 
habitations enveloped in devouring flames — morning found 
these habitations empty and deserted — and noon presented to 
the saddened spectator a city of blackened walls and smoking 
ruins. t 

Such is earthly property. To-day it is ours, to-morrow it is 
gone. To-day we enoy it, to-morrow it is the source of an- 

*See Jer. xvii. 9. Mark vii. 20, 23. Rom. iii. 10, 19. 
tNo less than one hundred and fourty-five acres of ground are now 
depopulated, and covered only by fragmentary ruins. 

discourse; second. 279 

other's pleasure. To-day we look upon it with pride, to-mor- 
row our eyes are closed in death. Behold the fashion of this 
world passeth away. It is even as a vapour, which soon van- 
ishes. It is like the unresting tide, ever changing place. 

What security is there against the vicissitudes of fortune, or 
of overwhelming ruin? Is it houses or lands? Is it much 
goods laid up in most careful certainty ? Is it the iron hold of 
an insurance corporation? Are they not all as stubble before 
the fire, and has not every device and calculation of man been 
defeated in this prostrating calamity? Nay, the whole world 
itself shall be burned up, and all the works which it contains, 
and then whose shall these things be ? 

III. How great then is the folly of worldly mindedness! 
How miserable the policy of hoarding covetousness ! How 
ruinous and self-destroying is the curse of selfishness. Miser- 
able men who live not only in the world, but for the world; 
whose souls are buried in their possessions; whose affections 
are engrossed by their houses and their lands ; who forget God 
in their pursuit of Mammon ; neglect salvation in the eager 
chase of earthly shadows ; and thus concentrate their hopes on 
those things which perish from before their eyes. Behold the 
end of those who mind earthly things, whose God is the beg- 
garly substance of this uncertain world. The flames of a few 
hours take from them their God, and then what have they left? 
What profit have they now in those things whose end is de- 
struction? Stript of all present resources, they are without 
God, and without hope for the world to come. Miserable in 
time, they are still more miserable as it regards eternity. Un- 
faithful stewards of the bounties of heaven, they are now 
turned out of their stewardship, and must look forward to a 
dreadful scrutiny. Unprofitable servants, they have squan- 
dered on themselves the talents entrusted for their master's 
glory, and behold they are taken from them. Foolish house- 
holders, they have withheld their property from the poor and 
the needy, and shut up their bowels of compassion from all the 
claims of charity, and in one disastrous night it is all wrenched 
from their grasp, and ere long their souls shall be required of 
them. Driven at their utmost need into the dark night of stern 
adversity, they are unsheltered by the wings of a God recon- 
ciled and merciful, they are unsolaced by the cheering influ- 
ences of his comforting spirit, the floods arise, and the storm 
beats upon them, and they are carried away as by a tempest in 
the night. Such is the condition of all who are "without God, 
and without hope in the world." 

IV. Who then can resist the urgency with which we are 
taught the unspeakable importance of an interest in religion? 

280 discourse; se;cond. 

Ho every one that is now afflicted and distressed. Ye out- 
cast and impoverished. Ye who are stricken and smitten by 
calamity. Ye who mourn over blighted prospects and ruined 
fortunes. Ye who weep beside the grave of buried love, and 
lament for the sudden bereavement of noble and generous 
friendship. Ho every one, weary and heavy laden with the 
burden of sorrowing distress, and racked by anxiety, and tossed 
upon a sea of care. Come to God that you may find rest. 
Come to Christ that you may roll on him your burdens. Come 
to that Comforter who will pour light into your understanding, 
and consolation into your heart. 

Acquaint yourself now with God. Believe now on the Lord 
Jesus Christ. Pray now for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Be 
now reconciled to God. Be now devoted to the Saviour. Sub- 
mit yourselves now to the Sanctifier. Seek the aid, the friend- 
ship, the favour of your heavenly Father. Lay hold on eternal 
life. Make sure a title to the heritage above. Prepare a man- 
sion in the skies, that when the disembodied spirit is left shel- 
terless, it may receive you into an everlasting habitation. Lay 
up treasure in the heavens. Strive after those riches which are 
enduring, and those possessions which are incorruptible, and 
which can never fade away. "Behold now is the accepted time 
— now is the day of salvation." 

Believe me, brethren, this is the true wisdom, the pearl of 
great price, the first and the one thing needful. Seek this first, 
and until you find it. Then, come fire or storm, come poverty 
or ruin, come sickness or distress, come death and eternity — 
you stand prepared. All these things may come upon you, but 
they shall not move you. All these things may assail but can- 
not overcome you. Earthly things they may dissolve, but 
heavenly things they cannot injure. The body they may de- 
stroy, but the soul they cannot. For behold "all things are 
your's, and you are Christ's, and Christ is God's." 

And now, brethren, the opportunity for securing eternal life 
is short. While I speak time is rolling you on to the eternal 
world. The same calamity which involved in ruins our houses 
and property, has overwhelmed also many of our fellow men. 
They have appeared in judgment. Their sentence is passed. 
Their destiny is fixed. And soon, my brethren, how soon! we 
too shall join them, and the time of our merciful visitation be 
gone — and that forever. 




Including the Whole Extent of its Corporate Limits 






In order to render this pamphlet a permanent historical docu- 
ment of utility, and value, as well as of improvement ; the fol- 
lowing account of the fire, and of the lives that were lost in it, 
from the Courier, and also a full list of all the houses destroyed, 
which we have endeavored to make as correct as possible, are 



''About 9 o'clock on Friday evening last, the citizens of 
Charleston were alarmed by the sound of the fire bells, and the 
cry given that it was in King-street, a part of the city which, 
from the great quantity of wooden buildings with which it was 
literally lined, from Tradd to Boundary-streets, on each side, 
with here and there a brick house, and occasionally one intended 
to be semi-fire proof — was always considered to be the most 
dangerous place for a conflagration to commence, and where, 
too, was stored a large portion of the most valuable dry goods 
in the city. 

"When we arrived at the place where the fire commenced, the 
flames had just made their apeparance in the rear of a small 
shed or building, adjoining the house, North West corner of 
Beresford and King-streets, and but a few minutes elapsed 
before the three or four houses, and the house on the South 
West corner of Beresford-street were also in flames. The fire 
then commenced roaring and leaping from different points, as 
well in a horizontal direction as in the air, with a vigor and 
virulence which was truly appalling, and it being known to all 
that there was an unusual scarcity of water, it was apparent to 
any observer that the apparatus of the Engineer for blowing up 
of houses, and the application of fire hooks were the principal 
means to be depended on for battling with the destructive and 
devouring element. Fire hooks, we believe, were used in but 
few if any instances, and we are under the impression that there 
is not a sufficient number of them, or that their usefulness, par- 
ticularly in pulling down small buildings is imdervalued. The 
Principal Engineer was absent, but his assistant, Mr. Frede- 
rick ScHNiERLE, was promptly on the ground, with the appa- 
ratus, and with a courage, coolness and efficiency, not to be sur- 
passed, and seldom equalled, commenced operations, and con- 
tinued unremittingly employed, until his life became the 


The fire now rapidly extended up King-street on both sides, 
and down Market-street to Meeting-street with the most uncon- 
trollable rapidity. The engines were literally powerless, except 
in a few instances — that of saving the Theatre, perhaps as 
prominent as any other. After passing down Market-street, 
(both sides of which, as far as Church-street, Markets included, 
were destroyed,) it took a North-Easterly direction, the wind 
being from the South- West, but blowing only moderately, and 
extended in that direction to the Sugar Refinery on Anson- 
street, thence down Anson to Hasell-street, then due East to 
the water, leaving but a few buildings between Hasell and 
Society-streets, except Mr. Ston^y's residence on Hasell-street, 
and Mr. Heyward's house on the corner of East-Bay and 
Society-street, and the large steam mill of Mr. Bennett. Lib- 
erty-street was the boundary above King-street on the Northern 
line, and St. Phillip to the West, a row of front buildings being 
left on the East side of that and Archdale-streets, including at 
least one-fourth of the centre of our beautiful and flourishing 
city, and destroying our very splendid New Hotel, the pride of 
the citizens, and nearly ready for the reception of boarders, the 
new Masonic Hall, at the West end of the Market, the brick 
work of which was nearly finished, and somewhat injuring the 
New Theatre. 

The loss of property is variously estimated, but from what 
we can ascertain it will be in the vicinity of THREE MIL- 
LIONS OF DOLLARS,* of which about one half is probably 

"We learn that the Charleston Insurance and Trust Company 
will pay in full, the Union Insurance Company nearly, if not 
quite all, and the Fire and Marine 75 per cent, if not more. 
The two agencies of Georgia Companies, in this city, are inter- 
ested, as we understand, to the amount of eighty-five thousand 
dollars ; their losses, of course, will all be paid. An advertise- 
ment of the Trust Company announces that claims will be paid 
as soon as presented. 

"It affords us sincere gratification to state that the Hotel was 
insured to the amount of One Hundred Thousand Dollars, 20,- 
000 in five different offices, and therefore, this splendid edifice 
will surely rise. Phoenix-like from its ashes, to ornament 
Charleston, or we mistake the spirit that animates our people. 

"During the course of the conflagration, a building used as a 
store-house, on Ker's wharf, foot of Laurens'-street, (formerly 
Norton's Rice Mill,) took fire from some cause not exactly 
known, and burnt to the ground — lost, $5,000, no insurance. 
The steam packett Neptune, lying at that wharf, was in immi- 

*It is now found to be considerably over Three Millions. 


nent danger, but fortunately was extricated from her perilous 
situation, and anchored in safety in the stream. 

"We have endeavored above, to give such a description and 
statement of this great calamity, as was in our power, as far as 
the loss of property is concerned. We now come to the melan- 
choly task of recording the Great Loss of Lh'E that has been 
sustained, and which has plunged many of our most worthy 
and respectable families in the deepest distress. 

"We commence with that of Col. Charles John Steedman, 
Naval Officer of the Port, a gentleman long known as one of 
our most active and public spirited citizens, and who, on this 
calamitous occasion, distinguished himself, previous to his 
death, by his cool, energetic and fearless conduct, having 
assisted in blowing up a number of buildings, and making him- 
self prominently useful, in numerous instances. The powder, 
in cassoons, prepared for use, gave out early in the night, and 
after that powder in kegs was employed, which is always a dan- 
gerous process. Col. Steedman entered a house on the East 
side of East-Bay, near Hasell-street, in company with Mr. M. 
F. TuRLEY^ a mulatto boy, and several other persons, with two 
kegs of powder, for the purpose of blowing it up, placing one in 
each room — one of them exploded and blew up the building, 
while the three above mentioned persons were within — Mr. 
Turley was immediately picked up, very much injured, but it is 
believed will eventually recover, though probably much crip- 
pled. Persons immediately ran to the wreck to extricate Col. S. 
and the boy ; while so engaged, Capt. DuEE, of the ship Herald, 
reported in the evening paper as killed, being on the roof — the 
second cask exploded, and lifted the roof up several feet, but 
fortunately without any injury to Capt. D. who is at this 
moment standing near us in good health. Col. S. was then 
taken out, but life was extinct. It is believed that he was killed 
by the second explosion, as some say he was heard to make an 
exclamation, after the house fell. The body of the boy was not 
obtained, but consumed in the building. 

"Mr. ScHNiERLE lost his life in blowing up the house at the 
corner of Liberty and King-streets, he was also employing a 
keg of powder in the same manner as Col. Steedman. After 
the house fell, the most strenuous exertions were made to get 
him out^ and it was efifected in a short time, and while he was 
alive, but most terribly burned, and mutilated. He spoke col- 
lectedly, to those who took hold of him, was carried home, and 
lived some half hour after he reached there ; his afflicted family 
having the melancholy consolation of hearing him converse 
before he breathed his last. He died in his perfect senses, 
conscious from the first moment that his life could not be pre- 
served. His loss will be severely felt, and deeply regretted. 


At the same explosion that derived Mr. S. of life, Mr. John S. 
Peart was also struck dead, probably by being thrown against 
something, and inwardly injured, as there did not appear to be 
any wounds externally that would have proved fatal. He 
breathed but a few moments after being taken up. A colored 
man was also killed at the same time. 

"Mr. Robert Munroe, who kept a Seed Store in King-street, 
was found dead, on Saturday morning, having either been 
burned up in his store, or some part of the ruins fallen on him. 
He was most dreadfully lacerated and dismembered. 

"One white man, we learn, fell down, and was taken up and 
carried into a house in Market-street dead, having, it is be- 
lieved, died from mere fright, or perhaps from apoplexy. We 
did not learn his name. 

"Mr. John D. Brown w^as so severely hurt, at the corner of 
Market and Church-streets, that his life is despaired of; we 
could not ascertain how the accident occurred. 

"These are all the fatal, or probably fatal cases, that have yet 
come to our knowledge. Several persons have received 
wounds, some of them pretty severe, and there may possibly be 
some other lives lost, not yet ascertained ; but we hope not. 

"Capt. SouTHWiCK, of the schooner Empire, arrived Satur- 
day evening, states that he saw the light of the fire at 3 o'clock 
on that morning, when 25 miles south of Savannah, being in a 
direct line, about eighty miles from this city. We have in our 
possession a cinder, apparently the remains of a piece of burnt 
linen or silk, which was picked up on the morning of the fire, 
by a planter, 15 miles distant from Charleston, where the light 
was distinctly seen, and the noise of blowing up of houses 


Wbst Side of King-Street, Bereseord. 

A two and a half story wooden house, occupied by C. Fairchild, as a 
shoe store, and Mrs. Jackson as a millinery store. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Dr. Schmidt, and 
occupied by J. C. Simons, as a paint and oil store. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Babson, store 
occupied by Mrs. Spencer. 

A shed room unoccupied, owned by Mrs. Babson, in the rear of which 
the fire occurred. 

A one and a half story wooden house, owned by the estate of Barrett, 
and occupied by colored persons as a fruit store. 

A two and a half story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Gnech, as a dry 
goods store, also owned by the estate of Barrett. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned and occupied by Mr. Black as 
a bakery. 

A two and a half story wooden house, occupied as a retail dry goods 
store, also owned by Mr. Black. 

A three story wooden rough cast house, owned and occupied by Mr. 
Sutcliffe, as a bakery and confectionary. 


A two story wooden house, owned by A. Black, and occupied by 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. |R. Gouldsmith, as 
a cabinet making establishment. 

A three story wooden house, with front stores, owned by A. Black, and 
occupied by Wright & Westcott, as a fancy military store, the other by 
Deming & Bulkeley, as a cabinet ware establishment. 

A two and a half story wooden house occupied by Mr. I^eprince as a 
fancy dry goods store. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. R. Gouldsmith, and 
occupied by Mr. Bartlett as a shoe store — insurance on stock, $8,000. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by Mr. Levy, and occupied 
by C. & E. L. Kerrison as a dry goods store. 

A two story brick house owned by Mr. Levy, and occupied as a residence 
by Mr. Reuben Moses, the store occupied by Mrs. Moriarty. 

A two story brick house, also owned by Mr. Levy, and occupied by him 
as a residence, and by Mr. Hobson as a shoe store. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Abrahams. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Burck as a dry goods store. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Ewan as a jewellery store. 

A three story wooden house, owned and occupied by Dr. Veitch as a drug 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Salvo & Co. as a cabinet ware 

A small two story house, occupied by M. Besser as a tailor's shop. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by L. Odena as a saddlery. 

A one and a half story house, occupied by an Italian as a fruit shop. 

A three story brick house, occupied by Mr. Bird as a fancy military store. 

A three story brick house, owned and occupied by Mr. Seigling as a 
music store. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. Nathan Hart, and 
occupied by Mrs. Nixon as a millinery store. 

A two story wooden house, occupied as a dry goods store. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by colored persons as a cake shop. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. Landreth, and occupied by 
him as a residence, the store occupied by J. Ketchum and Co. as a dry 
goods store. 

A two story wooden house owned by Mordecai Cohen, and occupied by 
Bessent & Miller, as a dry goods store. 

A two story brick house, owned by the same, and occupied by B. B. 
Hussey as a book store. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Hunter, and occupied by Mrs. 
M'Kensie as a dry goods store. 

A small two story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by 
Mr. Taylor as a shoe store. 

A two and a half story brick store, owned by Mrs. Kelly, and occupied 
by Mrs. Richard as a confectionary. 

A two and a half story brick house, also owned by Mrs. Kelly, and 
occupied by Mr. Symmes as a dry goods store. 

A small two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Landreth as a seed 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Schroder, as a millinery 

A small two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Quinen as 
a wooden ware store. 

A two story wooden house, occupied as a residence by Mr. Jackson, por- 
trait painter, the store occupied as a retail dry goods store. 

A three story brick house, occupied as a residence and dry goods store 
by W. Harwood & Co. 

A one story building, occupied by Mr. R. Munro as a seed store. 

A three story brick house, occupied by Mr. Jonathan Bryan as a dry 
goods store. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned and occupied by Wiley, 
Parish & Co. as a wholesale dry goods store. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. Mordecai Cohen, and occupied 
by Hayden, Gregg & Co. as a jewellery and military store. 

A two story wooden house and shed room, owned by M. Gidiere, and 
occupied by Mr. Crovat as a paint, oil, and hardware store. 


A three story brick house, owned by Nathan Hart, and occupied by S. & 
T. Wihiiot as a jewellery and military store. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. M. Cohen, and occupied by 
Mr. Jackson as a music store. 

A three story brick house, owned by the same, and occupied by C. & G. 
H. Kelsy & Halsted, as a wholesale dry goods store. 

A three story wooden house, owned by W. A. Caldwell, and occupied by 
Dellinger & Co. as a wholesale crockery store. 

A three story double tenement house, owned by Mr. Jones, and occupied 
by H. Wildman & Co. as a hat store, and L. J. Crovat as a grocery store. 

A two and a half storj^ brick house, owned and occupied by Mr. Jackson, 
as a tin ware establishment. 

A three story wooden house, owned by Mr. M. Cohen, and occupied by 
W. S. Boag as a drug store. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied 
by Hul & Knevals as a tailor's shop. 

A two story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by Starr & 
Williams as a wholesale hat store, together with the back stores, on the 
South side of Liberty-street. 


A three story brick house, owned by the Hon. H. L. Pinckney, and 
occupied by David A. Ring, much injured, and the greater part of the out 
buildings destroyed. 

A two story and a half brick house, the lower part occupied by Mr. 
James Judge as a dry good store, the upper story by Dr. E. S. Hull, Surgeon 
Dentist — partially destroyed. 

A two story brick house, owned, and the lower part occupied, by Mr. 
Robb as a grocery ; the upper part by Mr. R. S. Munn as a dwelling. 

A wooden building, owned by Mr. Robb, and occupied by S. A. Motta as 
a dry goods store. 

A one and a half story wooden building, occupied by N. H. Israel as 
a dry goods store. 

A one story wooden building, occupied by Israel Moses as a dry goods 

A one story wooden building, occupied by an Italian as a fruit shop. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by a German as a grocery. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. M'Intyre as a tavern. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. Nathan Hart, and occupied by 
W. W. Harper as a drug store. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. O. Bannen, and occupied by 
Mr. Nathan Hart as a hard ware store. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. Sifly, and occupied as a dwell- 
ing and dry goods store by Mr. William Howland. 

A two story wooden house, owned by M. C. Levy, and occupied as a 
dwelling and grocery store by Mrs. Mary Wood. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mrs. Muggridge. The upper part 

occupied by her as a boarding house, and the lower story by Mr. , 

as a drug store. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by Mr. M. Cohen, and 
occupied as a dwelling and shoe store by Mr. Z. Jesup. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by Mrs. M. Davis, and 
occupied as a dwelling and tavern by Mr. Antonio. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Wurdemann as 
a dwelling, dry goods and fancy store. 

A three story wooden house, owned by Mr. Seyle, the upper part occu- 
pied by him as a dwelling ; the lower story by Mr. Fenn as a dry goods 
store : also two public halls in the rear, owned by Mr. Seyle. 

A three story wooden house, owned by Mr. Mordecai Cohen, and occupied 
by Mr. J. Hersman as a dry goods store. 

A two story brick house, occupied by Mr. James Moorhead as a grocery. 

A three story brick house (Farmer's Hotel,) undergoing repairs, owned 
by Mr. John Hunter, and unoccupied. 

A two story brick house, occupied by Mr. Durbec as a clothing store. 

A three story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Johnston as a shoe store. 

A three story wooden house, owned by Mrs. Jane Leitch, the upper part 


occupied by her as a dwelling, and the lower story by Duffus & Taylor as 
a dry goods store. 

A three story wooden house, owned by Mr. Hunter, and occupied by B. 
P. Colburn as a dry goods store. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by J. Wilson as a 
dwelling and seed store. 

A splendid three story brick house, owned and occupied by Messrs. 
Moffett & Calder as a dry goods and carpet store. 

A two story wooden house, owned by M. C. Levy, and occupied by Depras 
& Carter as a shoe store 

A two story brick house, owned by the estate of L. Levy, and occupied 
as a hardware store by A. F. Wilmanns & Co. 

A small wooden house, owned by M. C. Levy, and occupied by Mrs. 
Groves as a fancy dry goods store. 

A small wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by B. Johnson, 
umbrella maker. 

A small wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by E. Attwell 
as a jewellery and dwelling. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Moses Jacobs, and occupied by 
Mr. Johnston as a dwelling and hat store. 

A two story wooden house, owned by N. A. Cohen, and occupied by him 
as a clothing store. 

A three tenement three story wooden house, the first by a Tobacconist, 
the second by Mr. Carroll, and the third by Mrs. Weatherhead & Hopkins 
as dry goods stores. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Stephen Watson, and occupied by 
H. B. Gleason as a crockery and glass ware store. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Potter, and occupied by Mr. 
M'Kenzie as a saddlerj'. 

A two story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied as a fancy 

A two story brick house, owned by the same, and occupied by Granniss, 
White & Co. as a wholesale shoe store. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by Mordecai Cohen, and 
occupied by Stoddard, Miler & Co. as a wholesale shoe store. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by Mr. Potter, and occupied 
by R. Fairchild as a tavern. 

A two story wooden house, owned by R. Moses, and occupied by Mr. S. 
Sampson. Senr., as a clothing store. 

A two story wooden house, owned by R. Moses, and occupied as a dwell- 
ing and millinery by Mesdames D'Oyley and Knowles. 

A splendid four story brick tenement house, owned by Miller, Ripley & 
Co., a part occupied by them as a wholesale dry goods store, and the other 
by Booraem & Co. as a dry goods store. 


Two story wooden house, occupied and owned by John White, dwelling 
and stone cutter yard. 

Two story wooden house, owned by Estate of Mushett, occupied by Mr. 
Murphy, as a private dwelling. 

Three story brick house, owned by Dr. T. Prioleau, occupied by Dr. 
Barron as a dwelling and office. 

Two story wooden house, owned by M. King, occupied by Dr. Mathews, 
dwelling and apothecary shop. 

Two story wooden house, owned by M. King, upper part dwelling by 
Mr. Waters, lower part as a shoe store by Mr. Hollis Johnson. 

Three story brick house, owned by Mr. C. Douglass, occupied as a 
dwelling and grocery store. 

Three story brick house, owned and occupied by Mrs. J. C. Millar, dwell- 
ing and bakery. 

Two story brick house, and shop in front, owned and occupied by Thomas 
Walker, dwelling and stone cutter. 

Seyles' buildings, viz : 

Wooden office, occupied as a doctor's office, by Dr. Bennett. 

The ^tna Fire Engine House. 

Wooden turner's shop and dwelling in rear, occupied by Mr. Evans. 

Two story brick dwelling house, occupied by W. B. Purvis above, lower 
part cabinet ware room. 

19— Vol. v. 


One story wooden house, owned by Rame, occupied by Hughes, dwelling 
and second hand furniture ware room. 

Three story brick building, owned and occupied by Rame — dwelling and 
confectionary shop ; attached in the rear a large two story banqueting hall 
and public baths. 

Three wooden shops, owned and occupied by Mr. Lloyd as a Venetian 
blind and sash maker, by Mr. Cowan, cabinet maker, and James Litle, 

Two story wooden house, lower part occupied as a hard ware store — 
upper part as a dwelling, by Mr. Henry Strohecker, owned by John 
Strohecker — in the rear a wooden blacksmith's shop. 

A two story wooden hovise, owned and occupied by Mrs. Nopie as a 
dying establishment. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by S. W. Henry as a 
furniture ware house. 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mrs. Fash, occupied by her as a 
dwelling and grocery store. 

Three story wooden house, owned and occupied by Dr. Rodrigues, Dentist. 

Three story brick house, owned and occupied by E. L. Kerrison, private 

Three story brick house, owned by estate of Mazyck, occupied as a 
private boarding house. 

Three story brick dwelling, owned and occupied by Mrs. Mazyck. 

A turner shop — and a two stor}' wooden house, owned and occupied by 
Mr. Whiting — lower part by Mr. Riggs as a saddler's shop. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. J. Neville, as a 
dwelling and cabinet maker's ware house. 

A two story brick house, occupied by Mr. Moorhead as a dwelling and 
grocery store. 

Mr. Charles Graves' house saved. 

Two story brick house, back from the street, owned by John Magrath, 

Three story brick house, owned and occupied by John Magrath — private 

A small frame shop, and a two story wooden house, occupied by Peterson 
as a grocery and dwelling. 


Two Story wooden house, owned by William Dunn, lower floor occupied 
as a barber shop, upper part dwelling by John Dunn. 

Two story wooden house, owned by the same, occupied by him as hat 
and dry goods store. 

Masonic Hall, west end of Market-street. 

Three story brick house, owned by W. Daly, occupied by him as a grocery 
store and dwelling. 

New Charleston Hotel. 

A small wooden building, owned and occupied by R. Ling as a carriage 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Barrett, occupied by Mr. Jewell 
as dwelling and furniture ware house. 

Tv/o story wooden house, owned by Mr. Barrett, occupied as barber shop 
and dwelling. 

A small wooden house, owned and occupied by Martinique as a segar 
maker's shop. 

A small two story brick tenement, owned and occupied by a widow as a 
baker shop. The other by a German as a tailor shop. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied as a dwelling and con- 
fectioner shop by Mr. Petit. 

Three story wooden building, owned by John Strohecker, occupied by S. 
Meeker, carrying on a carriage manufactory and having a large number of 
carriages and gigs. 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Geyer, and occupied by Mrs. 
as dwelling and grocery store. 

Two story wooden house and shop, owned by Major A. Black, occupied 
by a German bedstead maker. 

A wooden building, owned by A. Black, occupied by A. Hatch & Co. 

A two story dwelling in the rear. 


Two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. David 
Haig as a private dwelling. 

Two story wooden house, owned by , occupied by Mr. Wit- 

penn, grocery and dwelling — also a large flower and shrubbery attached to 
the same, kept by Mr. Witpenn. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Oliphant. 


A two and a half story wooden house, with a shed attached, occupied as a 

A two and a half story double tenement brick house, occupied by Mrs. 
Leader, and Mrs. Ann Whelden. 

Several one and a half story houses, occupied by colored persons. 

A two and a half story house, owned by the estate of Reigne, occupied 
by E. Tennbrock. 


A two Story treble tenement house. The first occupied by colored per- 
sons ; the second tenement occupied by Miss Peixotta ; the third occupied 
by Miss Albright. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by a colored person. 

A two story wooden house, owned by R. W. Seymour, and occupied by 
Ann Camoult. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Major Black, and occupied by Mary 

Two story wooden house, occupied by Caroline Perkins. 

Two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. Lord, and occupied 
by Elizabeth Shelley. 

Two story wooden house, owned by the French Church, and occupied by 
colored persons. 

Two story wooden house, owned by the estate of Barrett, and occupied 
by Moses Levy. 

Two story wooden house, owned by the estate of Barrett, and occupied 
by the same. 

A small wooden house, occupied by colored persons. 

Two small tenements, owned by R. Gouldsmith, and occupied by colored 

A small white house, owned by Mr. Ottolengui, and occupied by Mrs. 

A two and a half story wooden house, formerly owned by Mrs. Wrainch, 
occupied by Mr. Hard. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Taylor. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Shelton. 

A three story wooden house, owned by the estate of Schulte, and occu- 
pied by Dr. Thomas Logan. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Miss 

A small two story house, owned by Dr. Frost, and occupied by colored 


Two story wooden house, owned by Wm. Dunn, and occupied by Mrs. 
Jones as a dry goods store and dwelling. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Hattier, as fruit 
store and dwelling. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Kennedy. 

Two story wooden house and nine pin alley, owned and occupied by 
Fink, as a tavern and boarding house. 

Two story house, with store in front, attached to it, owned by George 
Kinloch, occupied by Joseph Shegog, as a dwelling. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied as fruit shop, by Jacob 

A small grocery store, occupied by Upman. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by P. Selin. fruiterer. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by A. Ballund, as a 
grocery store and dwelling. 

Two story wooden house, owned by A. Ballund, unoccupied. 


One story wooden building, owned and occupied by Conner and Beek- 
man as a corn, grain and hay store. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Jacob Schroder, as a 
dwelling and grocery store. 

Three story brick house, owned by Wm. Aiken, and occupied by Wm. 
White, grocery store and dwelling. 

One two story wooden house, attached to Mr. Sifly's premises, corner of 
Market and King streets, occupied by Humphries, colored tailor. 

A small wooden building, occupied as a fruit store. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Nedderman, dwelling 
and paint and oil store. 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Moses Jacobs, occupied by Mr. 
Trittau, dwelling and grocery. 

Two story brick house, owned by Mr. Sifly, upper part occupied as a 
dwelling, lower part as a tinner shop. 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mrs. Robert Ling, and occupied as a 
dwelling and second hand furniture ware house by Siddons. 

A wooden shop, owned and occupied by Philip Ling, carriage and chair 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mrs. Gay, and occupied as a 
dwelling and watchmaker shop by Mr. Gay. 


A small office, owned by Mrs. Logan, and occupied by Dr. Thomas Logan. 

A two and half story wooden house, occupied by Underwood as a tailor's 

A two and a half story house, occupied by Mrs. Harper. 

Two and a half story house, occupied by Mrs. Thomas as a fruit and 
grocery store. 

Two and a half story house, occupied by Mr. Camanarde. 

Two and a half story house, owned and occupied by Mr. Thomas Fell as 
a tin shop. 

Two story house, occupied by colored persons. 

Two story house, occupied by Mr. S. Verony as an old iron shop. 

Three story house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Brown ; basement story 
occupied by Mrs. Gray as a dry goods store and residence. 

Small wooden house, owned by Mr. Levy, and occupied by colored 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Levy, and occupied by Mrs. 


Two two story brick houses, owned by A. Ottolengui, occupied by Clark 
& M'CulIoch as taverns. 

A three story brick house, owned by Capt. Misroom, occupied by Bouchier 
as a dwelling and grocery. 

A three story brick house, owned by Simon Morrison, occupied by 
Thomas Morrison as a dwelling and cabinet ware house. 

A wooden tenement house, owned by M. King, occupied as a dwelling 
and dry goods store by Mrs. Morrison. 

A wooden house, owned by the same, occupied as a dwelling and tailor 

A two story brick house, owned by the same, unoccupied. 

A two story brick house, owned by the same, occupied by as a 

dwelling, mattress and bedding store. 

A two story brick building, owned by the same, occupied by Miller as a 
grocery and dwelling. 


A tv/o story brick hovise, owned and occupied by M. Strobel. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Nathans, and owned by 
Mr. Jones. 

A small wooden house, occupied by colored persons, and owned by the 

A small two story wooden house, occupied by colored persons, and owned 
by the same. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by colored persons, and owned by the 


A one and a half story house, occupied by Mr. Jones as a cabinet maker's 
shop, owned by the same. 


A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. Mouzon, and occu- 
pied by Mr. John Brady as a grocery store. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by Mr. Williams, and occupied 
by W. H. Baldwin. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. James Calder, and 
occupied by Mr. Fenn. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Cross. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. Cunningham, and 
occupied by Mr. Hart. 

A three story wooden house, owned by Mr. Cunningham, and occupied 
by Mr. Fell as a boarding house. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. Hunter, and occu- 
pied by colored persons. 


A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Solo- 
mon Moses as a dwelling. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Schnierle, and occupied by Mr. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. Schnierlie, and 
occupied by Mrs. Eason. 

A two story house, owned by R. Yeadon, Jr., and occupied by Mr. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. Mordecai Cohen, and occupied 
by Mr. Cohen. 

Two two story wooden houses, occupied by Z. Day, coachmaker. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by T. B. Folger. 

A work shop, owned by W. M. Parcel. 

A wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Hatch, milliner. 

A wooden house and shop, occupied by Henry Neville, cabinet maker. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Harrison. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Broughton. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Riggs. 

A wooden house, occupied by S. Meeker as a repository for carriages. 

A two story wooden tenement house, occupied by Gibson and Enslow. 

A small wooden building, occupied as a wheel wright shop. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by D. 

The Methodist Protestant Church, a wooden building. 

A two story wooden tenement house, owned by Mr. Goldsmith and occu- 
pied by . 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by a colored man. 

A small wooden house, owned and occupied by . 

A two and a half story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Dotterer. 

A one and a half story house, owned and occupied by . 

A two story wooden house, owned by , and occupied by a colored 


A two story wooden house, owned by , and occupied by colored 


A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Stewart. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Muller. 

A one and a half story, owned by , and occupied by Mrs. C. 


A small wooden tenement, owned and occupied by . 


A one and a half story wooden house, owned by M. Cohen. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by E. Day. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Martin as a 
blacksmith shop. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Gaillard, and owned by Mr. 
Job Palmer. 


A two story brick house, occupied by Mrs. Bee. 

A two story brick house, occupied by W. J. Gayer. 

A large three story wooden house, occupied by Miss Barksdale. 

A three story wooden house, owned by the Baptist Church, west side 
occupied by , east side by Mr. Singletary. 

Two small wooden buildings, occupied by colored people. 

A two story wooden house, owned by George Moore, and occupied by 
Mr, Valentine. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by George Moore. 

A one story wooden house, owned and occupied by a colored woman, 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Isaac Lewis. 

A small wooden house, owned and occupied by . 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Miller as a school room, 

A two story wooden tenement, the west side occupied by Mr. Poincignon, 
the east by . 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mrs. S. Russell, unoc- 

A one and a half story house, owned by the same, and occupied by Mrs. 

A one and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. W. 

A one and a half story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Tickler. 

A one and a half story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Schroeder. 

Several small wooden houses, owned by Mr. Paul Remley, and occupied 
by colored persons. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Capt. Williams. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. J. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. Joye, and occupied 
by Mr. Cheney. 

A three story wooden house, owned and occupied by C. G. Morris. 


St. Amand's livery stables, owned by Robert Boyce. 

Four two story wooden houses, owned by Robert Boyce, and all occupied. 

A three story wooden house, occupied by E. Abrahams. 

A two and a half story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Simpson. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Jacobs, a colored man, owned by 
Mr. Muckenfuss. 

A three story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs, Lesesne. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by the estate of Turpin, and 
occupied by Jane Turpin, a colored woman. 

A two story wooden hovise, owned by R, Moses and H, W. Conner. 

A small wooden house, occupied by a colored man, as a paint store. 

Second Presbyterian Lecture Room. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Bell. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Guerry. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. J. Venning, and 
occupied by John Kingman, 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mrs. Dowling. 

A two story wooden house, tenement, occupied by Mr. Suder and Mrs. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Edward Roach. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Edward Roach, and occupied by 
a colored woman. 

A three story brick house, owned by R. M. Venning, and occupied by 
Mr. LeCaron. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by R. Venning, and occupied 
by H. T. Street. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by W. Bell, and occupied by 
Mr. Price. 

A two and a half story brick house, occupied by C. Brenan, and owned 
by W. Bell. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Remley, and occupied 
by . 

Mr. Nathaniel Heyward had his house slightly injured, and one or two 
of his brick out houses consumed. 



A two story wooden house, owned by Dr. Schmidt, and occupied by Mr. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by David Oliphant. 

A two and a half story brick tenement house, west side occuiped by W. A. 
Martin, east by Mrs. Carsten. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Mrs. Carsten, and occupied by Mrs. 

A two story wooden house, ov/ned by the South-Carolina Society, and 
occupied by Mrs. Baron. 

A three story brick tenement house, the west side owned and occupied 
by J. C. Burckmeyer, the east side owned by Dr. J. Johnson, and occupied 
by C. Simonton. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by F. Lanneau, and owned by J. H. 

A new three story wooden house, owned by J. C. Kerr, not occupied. 

A three story brick tenement house, the west side owned and occupied 
by S. Barker, the east side owned by John Robinson, and occupied by Mr. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by R. M. Venning, and 
occupied by Mrs. Broughton. 

A two and a half story wooden house, occupied by E. Delano. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by R. M. Venning, and 
occupied by Mrs. Broughton. 

A two and a half story wooden house, occupied by E. Delano. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Shackelford. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by W. Bell, and occupied by 
Edward Morris. 

A two and a half story brick nouse, owned by Mr. Reynolds, and occupied 
by Mr. Stocker. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned by EHsha Carson, and occvi- 
pied by James Wilson. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned by the estate of George 
Gibbes. and occupied by . 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. 

A two story brick house, owned by M. C. Levy, and occupied by . 


A two Story double tenement house, owned by Mr. Pemble, one occupied 
by himself as a dwelling and dry goods store, the other as a picture store. 

A two story double tenement brick house, owned by \\l. B. Swift, occu- 
pied by colored persons. 

Up Larey's lot. about twelve tenements, owned by W. B. Swift, and occu- 
pied by colored persons. 

A two story wooden house, ov/ned by Mrs. Schnell, lower part occupied 
by Dr. Obberhauser as a drug store, the upper part by Mrs. Lamotta as a 
private boarding house. 

A two story wooden house, owned by the estate of Wyatt, occupied by 
Mrs. Wagner as a private dwelling. 

Up Broughton's lot, about twelve tenements, occupied by colored persons, 
owned by the estate of Broughton. 


A three story brick house, owned and occupied by Samuel Lord as a 
private dwelling. 

A two story wooden house, in the rear of Trinity Church, and owned by 
the corporation — occupied by Mr. Vinro. 


St. Mary's Church (Catholic). 

A two story wooden house, owned by H. W. Conner, and occupied by 
Mr. Spring. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Andrews. 
A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. John E. Smith. 
A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Winges. 
A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Manine. 


A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Venning, and occupied by Mrs. 

A two story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by colored 

A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Gardener, and occupied by 
Mr. Ross. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. E. M'Cready as 
a private dwelling. 

A small two story house, owned by Capt. R. Wilson, and occupied by 
Mrs. Cooler as a dwelling and grocery store. 

A two story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by Mr. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by M. Alderling as a grocery. 

A two story wooden house, owned by Mr. Andrews, and occupied by 
Mr. Clark as a grocery. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by, Mrs. Gardener. 

Two small two story houses, occupied by colored persons. 

A nev/ two and a half story wooden house, owned by Mr. J. F. Stein- 
myer, and occupied by Mr. Burns. 

A two story wooden house, occupied by Mr. Richland. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by H. Gerts as a grocery. 

A small one story house, owned by Capt. Wilson, and occupied by Dr. 
Wilson as a physician's office. 

Trinity Church. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. Hunt as a private 

Two story brick house, owned and occupied by Capt. Robert Wilson as a 
private dwelling. 

Two story brick dwelling house, owned by , unoccupied. 

Two story wooden house, owned by , occupied as a dwelling 

and grocery store by Batejeman. 

Two story wooden house, owned by Capt. R. Wilson, occupied by Mrs. 
Dav/son as a private dwelling. 

Two story brick building, owned by Mr. Latham, formerly used as a 

Two story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by Mr. John 

Two story brick house, owned by Mr. H. Tovey, occupied by Mr. Fields. 


A small house, attached to Dr. Rodrigues' residence, and occupied as 
jewellery by P. Javain. 

The Hebrew Synagoge, together with the buildings attached to it. 

Three story brick house, owned by Heyward, and occupied by Mr. 
Deas as a private dwelling. 

Three story brick house, owned by Heyward, and occupied by Mr. 
Cheesborough as a private dwelling. 

Two story brick house, owned by the estate of Paul Pritchard. and occu- 
pied by Dr. M. Cohen as a private dwelling. 

A brick shop, owned as above, and occupied by Dr. Lopez. 

Tv/o story wooden house, owned by Mr. Farley, and occupied by colored 

Three story wooden house, owned by H. Tovey, and occupied by Dr. 
Lopez as a dwelling. 

Two story brick house, owned and occupied by Brailsford as a dwelling. 

Two story brick house, owned by the estate of Rivers, occupied by . 

Two story brick house, owned by Henry Bertz, Jun. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by the same as a dwelling 
and grocery store. 

Two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Col. Bryan. 

Two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. John 
Stoney ; saved. 

Two story brick house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Fitzsimons as a 

Two story wooden house, owned by , and occupied by Col. 


Two story wooden tenem-ent house, owned by Mrs. Mary Thompson. 


Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by the same. 
A wooden shop attached to the corner house, occupied as a cabinet 
maker's shop by D. Jewell. 


A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. 
Charles Miller. 

A two story wooden house, owned by the same, and occupied by Mr. 

A two story wooden house, owner and occupant unknown. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. 


A three and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mr. R. 

Three small wooden houses, owned by Mr. Hunt. 

A one story house, owned by Mr. Hunt, and occupied as a grocery. 

A two and a half story brick house, owned and occupied by P. Smith. 

Two small houses, occupied by colored persons. 

A two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Brown, colored man, 
as a shoe store. 

A small two story house, owned by colored persons. 

A two and a half story wooden house, owned and occupied by Mrs. Hunt. 

A two story brick house, occupied by Mr. Haise as a grocery. 

A three story brick house, owned by Mr. Robinson; and occupied by Mr. 

Two story wooden tenement, owned by Capt. Wilson, occupants unknown. 


Two Story wooden house, owned by , occupied by colored 


Two story wooden house, owned by Brown as a dwelling, and block and 
pump maker's shop. 


Blacksmith shop, owned and occupied by Mr. Hurst. 

Two wooden buildings, occupied by M'Kewn and Johnson, machinists. 

One wooden building, occupied by Heriot & Petsch, engineers. 

Several wooden buildings, occupied by colored persons. 

Two story wooden tenement, owned by Mrs. Hart, occupied as a dwelling 
by A. Sanxton, and . 

Two story wooden house, owned by Mrs. Hart, occupied by Mr. E. 
Mood below as a pump and block maker's shop, upper part by W. 

Two story double tenement, owned by , and occupied by Mrs. 

Ellis, the other by Griggs as a grocery. 

Two story wooden house, owned and occupied by Edward Mood, as a 

Two story wooden house, owned by , and occupied by Davis as 

a private dwelling. 

Two story double tenement, owned by , occupied by Mrs. 

Anthony, the other by . 


Two and a half story double tenement, owned by Dr. Hall, one unoccu- 
pied, the other by Mr. Foster as a private dwelling. 

About twelve very small buildings, occupied by different persons. 

Two story wooden building, owned by the estate of Thompson, occupied 
by Edward Henry as a dwelling and grocery store. 


Mr. Taft's new house, slightly injured, out houses destroyed. 

All the out houses from Swinton's Lane to Beaufain-street, in Archdale, 
and from Beaufain to Wentworth-street, on St. Philip-street, have been 



At a meeting of Council, held immediately after the awful event, it was, 
on motion of Mr. Seymour. 

Resolved, That Council deeply lament the unfortunate deaths of Fred- 
erick Schnierle, one of the City Engineers, and of Col. Charles J. 
Steedman, and as a testimony of respect for their services, and regret for 
their loss, will attend their funerals. 

At a meeting of the citizens of Charleston Neck held in the Second 
Presbyterian Church, the following resolutions were offered by Dr. S. H. 
Dickson : 

Whereas it is the duty of every community to retain in perpetual remem- 
brance, the merits of those who have in any manner distinguished them- 
selves by public services, and whereas among the valuable lives lost in the 
late calamitous fire, our devoted and zealous fellow-citizen Col. C. J. 
Steedman, fell a victim to his strenuous and disinterested exertions in 
opposing the progress of the flames : 

Therefore Resolved. That we, the people of Charleston Neck, feel it 
incumbent on us to prepare some memorial more impressive and permanent 
than would be adapted to an ordinary occasion, of our sense of the worth, 
and gratitude for the services of our deceased fellow-citizen, and that we 
win erect to his memory and in his honor, a plain and simple Monument, 
on which an appropriate description shall record the mode and circum- 
stances of his death. 

That the Chairman of this meeting be desired to apply to the family of 
Col. S. for permission to place such a monument over his place of burial ; 
and to petition the Corporation of the Church in whose grave yard his 
remains are interred to allow it to be erected there. 

That a committee be appointed to carry the first resolution into efifect, 
whose duty it shall be to collect and receive such subscriptions as shall be 
necessary for that purpose, and that the present meeting pledge itself that 
the requisite sum shall be procured. 

A similar resolution was introduced by Mr. Richard Yeadon, jun. to the 
Fellowship Society, of which Col. Steedman had been for many years 
President, and unanimously adopted. 

In reference to Mr. Schnierle, the following Preamble and Resolutions 
were offered by Mr. Seymour, and agreed to by the City Council : 

Whereas, our community have been deprived of the valuable services of 
Mr. Frederick Schnierle, one of the Officers of the Engineer Department, 
by the loss of his life in the discharge of the duties of his office, while 
obeying the orders of the public authorities : and whereas it is proper that 
the City Council should render a tribute of respect to his memory. 

Therefore Resolved. That the permission of the Relatives of the deceased 
be solicited to allow the City Council to erect a monument to the memory 
of the late Mr. Frederick SchniereE, and that a committee be appointed 
to prepare a suitable inscription. Agreed to. 

And Messrs. Seymour, Memminger, Horlbeck, were appointed a Com- 


The City Council of Charleston acted on this occasion in all respects as 
became the authorized guardians of this Christian Community. Not only 
did they take immediate and efficient measures to relieve the sufferers and 
to draw forth the liberality of their fellow citizens, but, what was of still 
more primary importance, they called upon the inhabitants of Charleston 
to humble themselves under the mighty hand of that God who had 
afflicted them, and thus propitiate his favor and avert his righteous dis- 
pleasure. The following Proclamation issued on this occasion we deem 
worthy of preservation. 

By the Hon. H. L. Pinckney, Mayor of the City of Charleston. 


Whereas, in times of general calamity, it becomes a christian community 
to humble itself before the mighty hand of God. 

And whereas the City Council, in consideration of the late desolating 
conflagration, has directed that Thursday next, the 3d May, be set apart 
as a day of general Fasting, Humiliation and Prayer. 


Now. therefore, I do hereby issue this proclamation, setting apart 
THURSDAY next for the solemn purposes aforesaid ; and I respectfully 
invite the Rev. Clergy, of all denominations, to convene their respective 
congregations, on that day, and to deliver discourses adapted to the mourn- 
ful occasion. I also request that on that day, all places of business or 
amusement may be closed : and I do earnestly invite and entreat the citi- 
zens generally to consecrate the day in the manner recommended, to 
humble themselves before the Almighty Disposer of Events, acknowledging 
their sins and their unworthiness as individuals, and as a community, 
imploring pardon for the same, and that God may graciously avert his 
anger, and take this city hereafter under his blessing and protection, know- 
ing as they do, that in vain is a city guarded, unless it be one whose 
keeper is the Lord. 

Given under my hand and the seal of the city, this 29th day of April, 
1838, and in the 62d year of American Independence. 

By the Mayor. 

H. L. PINCKNEY, Mayor. 

William Roach Clerk of Council. 

The Resolution of Council, in pursuance of which this Proclamation was 
issued, is also deserving of perpetual regard, and is as follows : 

SUNDAY, April 29. 

Present, the Mayor and Aldermen Cogdell, Memminger, Horlbeck, Mills, 
Chapman, Ripley, Schmidt, Capers, Mordecai, Seymour. 

Mr. Memminger submitted the following preamble and resolutions, which 
were unanimously adopted : 

The City Cotmcil of Charleston, in common with their fellow citizens, 
deeply deplore the calamity which has laid in ruins the fairest portion of 
our city. Desolation and misery now present themselves, where but yes- 
terday was the abode of prosperity and enterprize — and the smoking hearths 
and deserted fire-sides of our citizens, stand amid the ruins like monuments 
of the past, and bring with them recollections well calculated to unnerve 
and paralyze the firmest mind. There is, however, to every well ordered 
and christian people, a source of consolation which will ever guard them 
against despair, and while they bow with resignation to the Almighty 
Disposer of Events, they will rely with humble confidence on his promises 
to raise up and protect even him whom he chasteneth. Trusting therefore 
that under his guidance and protection, we may find means to mitigate the 
suffering of our people, and to restore to them some at least of the bless- 
ings of which they have been deprived, it behooves us to advance to the 
prosecution of our duties with vigor and alacrity. 

1. Resolved, Therefore, that it becomes us to humble ourselves before 
the throne of Almighty God, and to implore the fostering care and protec- 
tion of his merciful Providence, in our efforts to resusitate our city and 
its broken fortunes ; that with this view. Thursday next, be appointed a day 
of public Fasting, Humiliation and Prayer ; and that the Reverend Clergy 
be invited to assemble their respective congregations and to unite their 
mutual and earnest supplications at the throne of Divine Grace and Mercy 
for assistance and support. 


However deeply we are called upon to lament this sad catastrophe, there 
is one view in which it brings with it cheering reflections. The liberality 
manifested on this occasion, not only in Charleston, but elsewhere, together 
with the universal sympathy exhibited throughout our entire country, are 
most truly delightful. Besides many acts of private and public benevolence, 
the following donations for the relief of the Sufferers by Fire, have been 
thus far acknowledged. 


OF S. C. send & Menden- 

From the City Council, $10,000 00 '^'S"- $^00 00 

" W. Jefferson Ben- " Wm. Abbott, Man- 

nett, lumber to the ager of the New 

value of 1,000 00 Theatre, 50 00 



From Theodore Gaujahn, 



From E. Laffan & Robt. 

An Anonymous 

Berney, (of this 




city, now in New- 

" John Parker, 



York,) per Gen. R. 

" Ward No. 1, cash, 



Y. Hayne, 



" " subscription. 



A Widow, 



" Ward No. 2, cash. 



" A Lady, by Rev. 

" " subscrptions, 



Bond English, 



" Ward No. 3, cash. 



From A Gentleman at 

Proceeds of Concert of 

Society Hill, Dar- 

Sacred Music, 



lington District, 

From the citizens of 

per George Cot- 

Charleston Neck in 




addition to $2000 

" W. Moffett, Louis- 

and upwards, al- 

ville, Chester Dis- 

ready given, about 






" A poor widow, per 

" Dr. Wm. Read, a 

Richard Yeadon, 



revolutionary offi- 

" J. R. Poinsett. Sec- 




retary of War, per 

" Mr. Edings, of 

Lewis & Robertson, 






" N. Heyward, $500, 

" A Lady of Edisto. 

C. Heyward $100. 

per Mr. Edings, 



and A. Heyward 

■' Hon. Langdon 

$100, per J. Jer- 







" An anonymous 

" Berners B. Sams, of 

contributor at St. 

Beaufort, S. C. 






" Thomas Joye, of 

" Major John Lind 

Steam Packet Bos- 

Smith, of the U. S.- 

ton, per Mr. Pat- 

Engineers, (now in 







" Citizens of Cokes- 

"' An anonymous 




contributor at Co- 

" John Gibson, Dar- 

lumbus Georgia, 



lington District, 



" Gen. Leigh Read, 

A note of Thos. R. Var- 

of Tallahassee, by 

dell. for 



Col. A. P. Hayne, 



From Miss Harriet 

"' An anonymous 







From Ward No. 4. cash. 



" Citizens of Ander- 

" " subscriptions. 



son District, S. C. 



The German and United 

" Col. Francis K. 

German Fusilier 

Huger, of Pendle- 

Companies omitted 

ton, S. C. 



their Anniversary 

" Citizens of Pendle- 

Dinner, and sub- 




scribed in. 



" Hopewell Congre- 

From a gentleman who 

gation, Chester Dis- 

resides in Winter- 




ice, Georgetown, 



" An anonymous 

" A Lady of Edisto, 






" Robert Latta, Esq., 

" The Citizens of 

of York District, 



Edgefield Court, 

" Chancellor Job 




Johnson, of New- 

" An unknown con- 




tributor. Rev. W. 

" The citizens of St. 





" Rev. Richard Ful- 

Parish. by Col. 

ler, of Beaufort, 



Malachi Ford, 



Isaac Ferrell, per 

" William Barker, 



John Wilkes, 



" Honesty, 



" Solomon Moses, 

" Hon. Judge Rich- 

proceeds of sale at 




Main Guard House, 






From the Town Council, $3,000 00 
" The Citizens, 6,000 00 

" James H. Adams, 
and William Wes- 

200 00 


The Citizens by H. 
R. Cook, Esq., 
An anonymous 


1,1.50 00 

50 00 


500 00 

From the Citizens, 

A gentleman, per 
Col. Malachi Ford, 


■' George Parrott, 
" H. L. Jeffers, 
" W. W. Starke, 


" The Citizens, 

200 00 

100 00 

25 00 

100 00 

500 00 


The Citizens, 2,000 00 


The Town Council, 2,000 00 
The Citizens, 4,414 00 


The City Council, 8.000 00 
Mr. Hannington, 
proprietor of the 
Dioramas, 100 00 

Solomon's Lodge, 
No. 1, A. Y. M. 200 00 

W. C. Forbes, Man- 
ager of the Theatre, 130 00 
The Georgia Huz- 
zars, through the 
Mayor, 500 00 

From the Baptist Church, 
•• J. Whale, 

The Citizens, by the 

The Methodist E. 
'• Messrs. Hall & 

The Lutheran Ch., 
by the Mayor, 


" The Citizens, 


An anonymous 


Saul Alley, per T. 

'■ J. Little & Co., per 
" William Carter, 

J. E. Bosseau, per 

A. Y. Walton, 


•• the United States' 
Bank, through its 
President, Mr. Bid- 

'• Reeves & Whitta- 
ker, per J. Adger 
& Co. 

" Geo. D. Wetherill 
& Co. 

Philadelphia Mer- 
cantile House, per 
Ker Boyce, 











1,000 00 

200 00 

200 00 

100 00 

300 00 







200 00 


Carolinians at N. 

Orleans, 1,500 00 

The City Council, 2,000 00 


A. &. W. Win- 


100 00 

The total Amount thus far subscribed and paid, if the above list is cor- 
rect, is considerably over One Hundre^d Thousand Dollars. 









pastor of tl^c Scconb prcsbgtcrtan tl^urct}. 





No. S(3 Broad-Street, 


Entered, According to Act of Congress, in the year 1838, by Jenkins & 
HusSEY, in the OfUce of the Clerk of the District Court of the District 
of South Carolina. 


Whatever of Religion, Manners, or of Morals is here exhib- 
ited, I dedicate to you. "Yes, in good sooth, they are of a 
great kindred : they are well allied." Shakespeare;. 

"Assume these virtues, though you have them not. 
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat ; 
Of habits, devil, is angel yet in this ; 
That to the use of actions fair and good. 
He likewise gives a frock, or livery. 
That aptly covers blackest vice." Shakespeare. 

20— Vol. v. 


"Familiarity breeds contempt." We become accustomed to 
the most hideous monsters, whether physical or moral. Im- 
mersed in the world, in daily converse with the world, looking 
constantly upon the things of the world, we become insensible 
to whatsoever in it is vicious or wrong. We require to be 
put in remembrance of those things we have most thoroughly 
learned, "though we know them, and be established in them." 
"Our pure minds" need to be "stirred up," and even our 
"faith" to be "increased." Hence the necessity of renewing in 
the minds of this community their former convictions of the 
evil and dangerous tendency of theatrical exhibitions. 

But why not let the theatre alone, seeing, if it be not of God 
"it will come to nought ?"ft We will let it alone, as far as any 
effort of ours could throw one straw, of physical or personal 
interference, in its way. If, however, we see our fellow-men in 
the way of danger and death, and give them no warning, 
neither speak to warn them of their wicked way, to save their 
life; the same men shall die in their iniquity, but their blood 
will be required at our hands. :|:| 

But to what purpose is it, seeing they will not give heed to 
your remonstrance, but may, contrariwise, "turn again and rend 
thee?" Nothwithstanding, "thou, shalt speak unto them" the 
"words" of "reproof," "whether they will hear, or whether they 
will forbear, for they are most rebellious."^ And, "if thou 
warn the wicked, and he turn not from his wickedness, nor 
from his wicked way, he shall die in his iniquity ; but thou hast 
delivered thy soul."f What though "some who do not believe 
take unto themselves certain lewd fellows of the baser sort, 
and gather a company, and set all the city in an uproar, saying, 
"this man turneth" our theatre "upside down, "J shall I, 
"through fear," hesitate to tell them, that while they now "walk 
in the ways of their heart and in the sight of their eyes, yet 
that for all these things God will bring them into judgment ?"|| 
No, I will "have the temerity to sully the ouloit of toleration 
with these intolerant dogmas."** 

Although an inspired teacher has made known to us. that "all 
who will live godly shall suffer persecution,"§ yet am I, not 
one of that persecuted sect of former days, who rejoiced in the 

ttActs, V. 38. JtEzekiel, Hi. 18. 

*Ezekiel, ii. 7. tEzekiel, iii. 19. $Acts. xvii. 5, 6. |IEccles. xi. 

**Defence of Drama, p. 269. N. B. The whole passage is beautiful ! 
§2 Tim. iii. 12. 


opportunity of enduring it. I am not inordinately desirous of 
what I yet believe to be "a cause of glorying," when endured 
"for Christ's sake and the Gospel's:" nor am I indifferent to 
the good opinion of my fellow men. I possess all our natural 
love'of comfort, and of the friendship of others, and limit them 
only by the claims of duty and religion. The preaching or the 
publication of these discourses could not, therefore, have arisen 
from any affected indifference to the good will of others. That 
they are the result of a pure and unadulterated desire to do 
good, I am afraid to assert : that in both, I was actuated by 
this, as one motive, I feel assured : that this may be their ulti- 
mate effect, I most fervently pray. 

Let not these discourses be regarded as the offspring of that 
sour melancholy which envies what it cannot enjoy; — haud 
incxpertus loquor. Rather may I say, to adapt to my purpose the 
language of Cicero and Virgil, Spectaculum miserum, quodquc. 
ipse miscrrinnis vidi. Neither have I dipped my pen in gall, or 
written amid '"the glooms of piety." I have no disposition to 
"fulminate" the managers or the patrons of the theatre "with 
brimstone, roast them with fire, or consign them to the lowest 
pit of perdition ;"* nor shall they ever be my enemies, unless 
indeed they should become so "because I tell them the truth. "f 
There breathes not the human being, however abject, or de- 
praved, for whom I do not wish happiness and peace. Nor 
shall a wish of mine ever interpose between any soul and its 
"everlasting life." God is my witness, that even as it regards 
those involved in the subject of the following discourses, "my 
heart's desire and prayer to God for them is. that they may 
be saved ;"| — saved from all present evil, saved from all future 
woe. Should, therefore, any of the friends of the theatre, — 
whom I shall still call my friends, inasmuch as we are brethren 
in the ties of a common humanity, heirs of thfe same inheritance 
of immortality, indebted equally to the mercy of the same long- 
suffering and forgiving God, and who may be alike partakers 
of the blessedness of the same joyful eternity, — notice this 
publication, they will not think they are indulging in a merited 
retaliation should they feel towards me the spirit of revenge 
or bitterness, or malice, for all such feelings I must conscien- 
tiously disavow. I have, indeed, left the beaten track of mere 
sober argument, — for in this view of the theatre there are 
extant, able, unanswered and unanswerable treaties, § — that I 

*See Defence of Drama, p. 231. tGal. iv. 16. tRom. x. 1. 

§The American reader is referred to Witherspoon on the Stage, Dr. 
Miller's Sermon, Fashionable Amusements, and Dr. Henry's Inquiry into 
Fashionable Amusements, published in Charleston. I say unanswered 
treatises, unless, indeed, we allow the following to be a convincing refuta- 
tion. "O Witherspoon ! Witherspoon ! sapient Witherspoon ! living or dead, 
hail to thee, Witherspoon !" See Defence of Drama, p. 162. 


might hold up the mirror to the theatre itself, allow it to exhibit 
Its own beautiful countenance, speak its own sentiments, and 
plead its own merits. For this, I hope I shall not be con- 
demned. Nor will the editors of our public papers, to whom, 
if I owe any thing, it is a debt of thanks, regard me as wantonly 
interfering with them, when, to let the "very age and body of the 
time," feel its own weight and pressure, I have made use of 
their "map of this busy life" of theatrical display, to guide me 
in my efforts. 

I must take leave to say, that, much is now printed which I 
could not dare to utter in a christian community, before a 
christian audience, in a christian temple, on a christian sabbath ; 
but it is now published, or referred to, that an unvarnished 
picture may be presented to the eye of serious and careful 
examination, of what is nightly heard and witnessed, in the 
"new theatre," — that is, if like is like, or if two things which 
are equal to the same thing are equal to one another, — for it 
is barely possible that what may be axiomatically true when 
applied to any other theatre in the world, may not be applicable 
to the "new theatre," since there is "a rare; union of fitting 
qualities in its manager."* "we hardly had a right to 

And here let me observe, that I do not believe that all who 
attend nightly on the "new theatre" are of the character here 
described. Were they so, my efforts to disabuse their minds 
were the vain attempt to purify impurity and cleanse unclean- 
ness. It is because I believe they are. many of them, not so ; 
it is because I feel confident they are "ignorant what they do," 
and where they go, and of the evils they are instrumental in 
augmenting ; it is because I do hope their minds are open to 
truth, and their hearts to conviction, and that they may yet be 
drawn out of this vortex of iniquity, and put forweard upon 
their voyage to eternity, under a favouring sky, and with pros- 
pering gales ; — it is in this belief I commend these discourses to 
the religious and virtuous community of Charleston, beseeching 
them, as they value their own purity, and the salvation of their 
children, families and friends, to leave the theatre to its own 
patrons ; to those who have "actually demanded" it ; for whose 
reformation it is said to be established ; even those who are so 
lost to God and hope, as to find pleasure only in the "haunts" 
of filthiest "dissipation. "t 

It may be asked, "Do you read dramas?" I answer, yes, 
occasionally; especially when I wish to detect their injurious 
tendency. But what then? Reading a play is one thing; 
attendance upon the acting of a play in a theatre, and partici- 
pation in all the consequent evils, is another. To use the 

*Mercury, Dec. 18. tSouthern Patriot, Dec. 14. 


expressive illustration of Mrs. Jamieson, in reference to this 
very subject, "Passion, when we contemplate it through the 
medium of imagination (as in reading a play) is like a ray of 
light transmitted through a prism ; we can calmly, and with 
undazzled eye, study its complicated nature, and analyze its 
various tints ; but passion brought home to us in its reality, 
through our feelings and experience, (as in the theatre) is like 
the same ray transmitted through a lens, blinding, burning, con- 
suming where it falls."* In reading a play, we sit upon it, as 
a critic or a judge, in a posture of antagonism to all its evil: 
in the theatre we live and act out as in reality, the scenes 
exhibited, and thus, unconsciously, open our hearts to the full 
inhalation of its poisonous influence. f 

Again, it is demanded with an air of apparent triumph, "how 
comes it, if the theatre is so abominable, that Jesus and his 
apostles remain silent on the subject."^ "Their silence is a 
striking proof."| We might as well say, if arsony, burglary, 
simony; if horse-stealing, counterfeiting, or treason; if gam- 
bling, pocket-picking, or duelling; and a thousand other par- 
ticular forms of acknowledged crime ; if masquerading, Sunday 
parties, and other most unchristian practices, are not especially 
named in the Bible, therefore, they are not criminal. When 
will men apply common sense to the understanding of the 
Scriptures? If nothing is evil, which is not there strictly for- 
bidden, then nothing is right which is not there inculcated. 
Look, for a moment, at the character of Bible promises and 
blessings, and you find them all applicable to principles, and 
not to special acts, except when such are introduced for the bet- 
ter illustration of those principles. Look to the Bible threaten- 
ings and prohibitions, and they are similarly characterized. And 
whenever a catalogue of vices is made out, we are reminded that 
the denunciation against them applies equally to all "such like," 
and "such things ;"§ and not only so, but we are here required, 
not merely "to put off the old man, with his deeds," we must 
"put on the new man," "whatsoever we do, in word or deed^ 
doing all in the name of the Lord Jesus. "ff "Know ye not, that 
the unrighte;ous shall not inherit the kingdom of God?"$$ 
It is enough to secure our condemnation that we are not godly, 
"for, if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die;"|| "and there shall 
in no wise enter into heaven any thing that defileth."** With 
a thousand such broad principles laid down, what madness is it 

*Characteristics of Women, Introd. 

tAddison, Hannah More, Young and Johnson, wrote Dramas, in the 
vain hope of cleansing the Augean stable of the theatre ; but they all 
deprecated it, in its present state of most ruinous depravity. 

tSee Defence of Drama, p. 264. 

§See Gal. v. 21. ttSee Col. iii. 9, 10, 17. t+1 Cor. vi. 9. 

1 1 Rom. viii. 13. **Rev. xxi. 27. 


to shelter vice under the pretext of **"no special prohibition." 
What principle in the whole Bible, or in our text, is not violated 
by the theatre, in some of its multitudinous evils? This is 
enough, and we need not stop to quarrel about any one or many 
texts, although we are convinced that there is very probable 
allusion to the theatre* in more than one passage of this record 
of the divine will. 

But I find that I am likely to get into a third discourse, 
instead of saying a few words by way of introduction. I com- 
mend, therefore, myself and these discourses to the prayerful 
attention of my readers. THE AUTHOR. 

N. B. Another reason I may mention for publishing these 
discourses, is, that many who desire to know what the theatre 
really is, may here have an opportunity of satisfying their 
curiosity without defiling themselves by contact with it. My 

good friend, the member of the church, who has such an 

ardent wish to go "just once," but who is afraid it might be 
-u'rong, will, I think, by the perusal of these discourses, have 
all scruples removed, so that if advised to go, she would reply, 
"No, I cannot do this thing in sin against God," against con- 
science, against all morality. If this will not be sufficient, let 
me give an illustration. A young lady, a few years since, being 
determined to go just once to see the theatre, engaged the 
servant girl to accompany her. both being dressed alike. They, 
of course, were shown into the ladies' apartment, among the 
"gods and goddesses." That night, as was usual, the rozv was 
turned into a rozv; the policemen were sent in, to give "a gentle 
hint," and our young noviciates were quietly handed off, with 
the rest, to spend the night in the guard-house. This is surely 
worth going for, — perhaps, however, "only once." 

**See On the nature of Bible commands, Abp. Whately's Bampton Lec- 
tures, p. 343. 

♦Defence, p. 264, 265. 




Titus, Chap. II., v. 11-14. 

For the grace of God that briugeth salvation hath appeared to all men. 
Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, zve should live 
soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world; Looking for that 
blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour 
Jesus Christ : Who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all 
iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works. 
These things speak, and exhort, and rebuke with all authority. Let no 
man despise thee. 

Our text is a comprehensive summary of christian faith and 
duty, teaching us what, as heirs of immortahty, we should 
beHeve, and how we should live. We are here instructed in the 
character of the gospel as being the offspring of "the grace of 
God;" in its nature, as "bringing salvation;" in its aspect of 
universal charity, as "appearing to all men," in its designed 
effect upon the character of man, during all the time he is "in 
this present world, teaching us that denying ungodliness and 
worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously and godly;" 
in its heavenly influence upon the soul, which is led by it while 
thus holy "in this present world," to "look for the blessed hope 
and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour 
Jesus Christ;" and in its peculiarity, being distinguished from 
all other systems of religious teaching by having this regenera- 
tion of the heart, and this spirituality of life, as its great busi- 
ness ; "Christ having given himself for us, that he might redeem 
us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people 
zealous of good works." These truths, enjoining the absolute 
necessity of a life holy and far removed from all that is "of 
the world," the youthful Titus, as a faithful minister of Christ 
Jesus, is to "speak;" to obedience to them he is to "exhort;" 
the violation of them he is to "rebuke," and he is thus to make 
known the requirement of heaven "with all authority," without 
fear of the hatred, or undue regard to the favor of man, "Let 
no man despise thee." 

Such is the life which, as rational and undying creatures, 
God would have us live in the flesh; such is the life which is 
according to godliness, and which will prepare us for that 


"eternal life" secured for those who obey the gospel of God 
our Saviour. 

This life is not inconsistent with a diligent attention to the 
duties of any honorable calling, nor a proper enjoyment of the 
blessings of a kind providence ; but whether we eat or drink, 
or whatsoever we do, it requires that all should be done to the 
glory of God.* 

Christianity is the patron of learning, of the arts and sciences. 
She improves the taste, no less than she purifies the heart. 
She refines the passions of the soul, as she exhalts its more 
intellectual powers. While religion points the traveller of earth 
to a brighter world on high, she at the same time makes him a 
more useful, active and efficient inhabitant of the world below. 
Devotedness to God, a due attention to the ordinances and 
claims of piety, spirituality of mind, and fervency of spirit, 
are not inconsistent with, they foster the punctual discharge 
of every "reasonable service." The man of God is the man 
of uprightness and righteousness. The holy man is the truly 
honest man. The best member of the church, is the best mem- 
ber of society, and the most willing promoter of all its true 

As christians, therefore, we are interested in the welfare of 
that community in which we dwell. We will rejoice in its pros- 
perity, and hail with exultation every prospect of its rising 
greatness. Its advancement we will feel to be our own. We 
will return those gratulations which are given in consequence 
of the removal of every source of pollution and disease, and 
the additions which are made to the public comfort, or to the 
beauty and ornament of the city. To call forth our admiration, 
it is not necessary that any such improvement or public building 
should be in direct furtherance of the interests of religion. It 
is sufficient if, while congenial with the spirit of piety they 
advance the general well-being and happiness of society. 

Another edifice has been erected in this city. At an expense 
of about sixty thousand dollars, it has arisen as another orna- 
ment of this Southern metropolis. 

We have our college, our schools of medicine, our houses of 
charity and associated benevolence : this professes itself to be 
a school of virtue. From it, we are told, are to go forth the 
lessons of wisdom, the inculcations of morality, the teachings 
of refinement and polish. A public claim has been made to our 
approbation, our co-operation and attendance. And shall we 
not respond to the invitation with grateful hearts ? Would that 
we could ! and that such was our confidence in the truth of this 
profession, and the sincerity of this assumed character, as to 
justify us in lending our hearty assistance. 

*1 Cor. X. 31. 


But remembering that vice always cloaks itself in the appar- 
ent garb of virtue ; that error ever claims the attributes of truth ; 
that it is the fate of our corrupted reason to call good evil and 
evil good ; we cannot grant to the theatre the character of virtue, 
even though she proclaims herself to be her obedient servant. 
Virtue, in this dilemma, may well use the language of the suspi- 
cious citizen, who said, "Save me from my friends, and I will 
take care of my enemies." The deepest and most fatal wounds 
religion has ever received, have been given in the house of her 
professed friends, not in the open combat with her foes, for of 
this she may say, with Julius Caesar, veni, zndi, vici. And when 
play actors and the patrons of the theatre, become the advocates 
and expounders of piety and virtue, we may well expect these 
to be widely remote from what one of them has publicly called 
"downright stupid puritanism ;"§ far different in their disciples, 
from those whom the same polite writer calls "brazen-faced 
sophists,"* and remove to an infinite distance from that religion 
embraced by Augustine, Chrysostom, Cyprian, and the whole 
body of the fathers, reformers and christian writers; who are 
modestly characterised by this same redoubted champion of 
the pure orthodoxy of the theatrical faith and morals, as 
"strange beings, some of whom will provoke your laughter, 
others your anger. Some will excite your disgust, others merit 
your contempt; and all will ultimately demand your pity;"t 
and from "the virulence of" whose "vulgarisms, ignorance, 
prejudice, bigotry, one and all," which "overwhelmes with 
froth, folly, venom and impertinence,":|: "neither rank, genius, 
nor philanthropy would protect." 

There is no difficulty in tmderstanding fully the creed of 
these theatrical divines, these popular expounders of heaven's 
will. To use the expression of this same defender of the drama, 
who professes himself to be so deeply interested in the char- 
acter of the gospel — it has no sympathy with "that lively faith" 
which is so much "insisted on in this evangelical asre;"!! it 

... ^ o ' 1 I 

professes no participation "in the sensations of our modern 
mystic visionaries ;"| | its worship is "the rational veneration of 
a virtuous human being ;"|| its prayer is founded on the truth 
that "the divine favour and mercy is upon all our fellow 
creatures :" 1 1 the belief in the practical doctrine of the trinity, 
it regards "as the frantic idea of beholding the various attri- 
butes of the triune God."|| Its charity and toleration consists 
in believing that "the notorious Mr. Prynne" (who had the 
villany to expose the viciousness of the theatre in a theatrical 
and vicious age) "paid the forfeiture of his ears as a just 
reward for his histrionical researches and personal interfer- 

§Def. of Drama, p. 77. 
*Def. of Drama, p. 88. 

tDitto, p. 30. $Ditto, p. 25, 26. | [Ditto, p. 27. 


ence,"§ To write or preach against the theatre, it is their 
behef, shews "imbecile persecution;"** and to urge against it, 
the opinions of Plato and Socrates, Xenophon and Aristotle, 
Solon and Seneca, Cicero and Livy, the fathers and all christian 
writers, is to "form a reservoir supplied by the filth of ages," 
and the dregs of "calumny." In short, their faith is "rational 
religion, moral reason,"* in contradistinction to the "anti- 
christian flights of the frequenters and supporters of band- 
meetings, watch-nights and love-feasts," who thus "become 
religiously blasphemous. "f From all this "labyrinth of absurd- 
ities,"t believed in by the Fathers and Reformers, by the Puri- 
tans and Non-conformists, by Whitfield and "Evangelicals and 
mystic visionaries,:j: and modern devotees" || in general, they 
have gloriously delivered themselves ; that they may expatiate 
in all the liberty of a creed which will embrace "all our fellow- 
creatures," the "filthy as well as the pure, men of all ranks, all 
faiths, all professions, "*§ in the arms of its wide extending 
charity; a faith which can be as fervently enjoyed and as rap- 
turously contemplated in the theatre as in the church ;§§ a 
faith which renders all particular temples unnecessary, in its 
admiration of the grand temple of the universe ; which dis- 
misses all particular acts of prayer, in its ever present spirit of 
"rational religion, moral reason ;" a faith which turns "the 
foolish Devil" out of the church, that he may make "noble 
sport,"* J by his exhibitions in "the play house ;"*$ a faith 
which can freely laugh at whatever in the Bible will make 
"good sport," and which can, therefore, describe the ancient 
church, as a whole, and with no exceptions "from Moses to 
Josephus," as "a people possessing all the brutal vices of the 
ancients, without the display of their virtues or the adornment 
of their elegancies ;"t§ and in whose estimation the church now, 
in its most active and zealous representatives, is composed of 
"piebald secretaries, "ff "enthusiastic visionaries, unlettered 
bigots, brainless sectaries, "^| and demi maniacs. "*t 

We are at no loss then, I repeat, from this synopsis of theat- 
rical religion — of what it does, and what it does not believe — 
to know exactly what is meant, when it is publicly announced 
to us, that a new school of "pure and undefiled religion," free 
from all "those groundless absurdities brayed forth"$§ by 
evangelical christians, has been established among us. 

We do not wish to believe, nor do we ask others to believe, 

§Ditto, p. 30. **Ditto, p. 31. 

*Def. of Drama, p. 32. tDitto, p. 28. tDitto, p. 27. || Ditto, p. 61. 
*§Ditto, p. 278. This is truly a ''large embrace!" p. 277. 
§§We once heard of a good old elder of the church, who verily made 
this confession of faith his own. *tDefence, p. 72. 

t§Ditto, p. 86. ttDitto, p. 176. tJDitto, p. 172. *tDitto, p. 166. 
t§Def. of Drama, p. 169. 


that this is the bona fide rehgion of all the attendants at the new 
theatre, — for they constitute not the teachers but the taught, 
not the masters but the scholars. But that is the character of 
the religion taught in the theatre, fostered by its genial warmth, 
and sustained by its enlightened, rational, and truly disinterested 
efforts, we must believe, even had we no personal knowledge 
or convictions on the subject, on the authority of Mr. Mansel, 
an initiated doctor of these institutes, and author of the letter 

to Lady ; a writer who, in his treatise upon this subject, 

as he himself assures us, "makes his appeal at once to the 
scripture, the proper guide of christians ;"§ and on the further 
authority of that associated corps of editors by whom he is 
endorsed, as a standard in orthodoxy, for the full acceptance 
of this American public. That this creed, in all its doctrinal 
bearings, is in perfect harmony with the instructions of oui 
text, and the Bible generally an easy comparison may at once 
show ! 

It might have been added in the advertisements which have 
been so liberally enforced upon public attention, by our public 
prints, and our polished literati, that in order to secure the com- 
plete outfit of the theatre for its present opening, and prevent 
any possible delay, the whole of the Sabbath day, as well as the 
entire week was liberally granted to the artisans, — doubtless in 
the full belief that to assist in the erection of "a school of 
religion," is only something less sacred, than to unite in its 
worship when completed. Let no "weak brother" or "fearful 
disciple," hesitate to regard this liberality in its proper character 
of virtuous effort ; since it is "good always to be zealously 
affected in a good cause, in season and out of season." Such a 
course is amply justified, not only by the enlightened spirit of 
this Sabbath-breaking age, — but also by the express sanction of 
"the learned Father Caffrario, divinity professor at Paris, in 
the year 16 — ," whose epistle on this subject forms a part of the 
body of theatrical divinity to which I have referred, an epistle 
considered by the disciples of the theatre, so powerful, as to be 
regarded by the editor of this work the "centre" of his army, 
and such as to be inviolable, and to "bid defiance to all efforts."* 
This learned and right reverend Roman Catholic Father Caf- 
frario assures us, that attendance on the theatre on the Sabbath 
does not, and cannot possibly, interfere with christian duties, 
as there is time enough left to bestow on the business of devo- 
tion. These are his words : "Our plays begin at five or six 
o'clock, when divine service is over, and prayers and sermon 
ended, when the church doors are shut, and the people have had 
time enough to bestow on business and devotion. f As to the 

§Ditto. p. 96. 

♦Defence, p. 98. tDef. p. 161. 

318 discourse; first. 

circumstance of places, it is observed, in France ; formerly, 
they acted in churches, (this was a mere circumstance of 
place!) but now they have public theatres for the purpose."^ 

Hypocrisy may be truly regarded as one of the strongest 
arguments for the truth of Christianity, — as counterfeits prove 
the existence of genuine money. That men who are, in heart, 
and spirit, and conduct, opposed to the spirit, neglectful of the 
duties, and indifferent to the claims of religion, should, never- 
theless, profess to be christian, and proclaim their respect for 
all the principles of Christianity, is, we think, the highest possi- 
ble attestation which could be given to the mighty power of this 
divine faith. The extent to which this nominal attachment to 
Christianity exists, may also be considered as no unerring guide 
to the diffused power and influence of religion. Let us then, 
instead of feeling resentment, rejoice rather, that, in re-opening 
the theatre in Charleston, such is the prevalence and power of 
christian sentiment and feeling, that it becomes necessary, to 
gain an audience, or secure respect, that the institution should 
come forth under the patronage, and as the friend, of religion 
and morals. Christianity has taught us to rejoice when Christ 
is preached, whether in pretence or in truth, whether through 
envy and strife, or in good will.* 

But we are also called upon to rejoice in the re-establishment 
of the theatre among us, as a school of morals and of manners. 
To this school of morals and of manners, the youth of our city 
are patriotically summoned, and their parents urged to secure 
their punctual and diligent attendance, that they may thus be 
delivered from those low and corrupting pleasures found in 
their present haunts of dissipation. 

Let us then proceed to consider the theatre, as a school of 
manners. As teachers of any art or science are expected to 
give some tolerable specimen of it in their own conduct or per- 
formance, so we may form some tolerable idea of the polished 
manners of the theatre, from those displayed by the writer, 
from whom we have drawn its portraiture. Here, however, 
we must confess, that we have not done the author justice, as in 
the latter part of his performance he appears to still greater 
advantage. f Doubtless, the managers of the theatre are the 
men, and manners and good breeding will die with them. 
Doubtless, they form the tout-ensemble of the gentlemen, for 
beyond the theatre, where will you look for wit, or refinement, 
courage or independence. "The seat of wit," says Steele, 

tThat it was formerly common especially in the "dark ages/' to cele- 
brate the mysteries of the theatre in the churches, may be very well 
believed, since they were so at the time of this author. But of this again. 

*Phil. i. 18 and 15. 

tParticularly in his truly faithful exposition of the sentiments of differ- 
ent religionists ! See p. 244. et passim. 


■'when one speaks as a man of the town and thf world, is 
the playhouse." No wonder then, as he further informs us, 
attendance upon the theatre "makes a poUte gentry,"^ — such a 
gentry, 1 presume, as constitute the "men of the town and 
the world." No wonder, that under its teachings, there should 
spring up so many of these most estimable characters, who 
admirably act out the morals and display the manners of this 
their "alma mater" — characters so needful to the prosperity of 
every flourishing community; since Steele further inform us, 
"that the application of wit in the theatre, has as strong an 
effect upon the manners of our gentlemen, as the taste of it has 
upon the writings of our authors." And as in this free and 
independent country, where every man follows the bent of his 
own inclinations, we are likely to be in great want of this class 
of the community, we may conclude, with Sir T. Overbury, 
that "playhouses are more necessary in a well governed com- 
monwealth than schools, for men are better taught by example 
than by precept!" "Indeed," to use the language of another, 
"the theatre is a better school of moral sentiments, than 
churches !" 

But to be serious : what, we ask, are the manners to be taught 
in the theatre? A primary truth on this subject is, that it is a 
mark of respectability and superior rank to be idle, and there- 
fore. Dr. Johnson assures us, that "the playhouse is a place to 
which the idler is not much a stranger, since he can have no 
where else so much entertainment with so little concurrence of 
his own endeavours." Here, in this school of politeness, its 
scholars will be taught to believe, with the Royal Charles, that 
heart religion is altogether unfit for a gentleman. They will, 
therefore, be driven to adopt the plan of Rochefoucault, and 
throw over the indulged propensities and vices of their hearts, 
the outward decency of a belief in Christianity, and thus will 
they arrive at the proficiency of a well bred gentleman — the 
extinction of the light of natural virtue by a course of prof- 
ligacy, and a contempt of all goodness, through familiarity 
with vice ; for it is not the truth, that oftentimes they who are 
most honoured by the praises of the world, are the most emi- 
nent in the achievements of debauchery? 

A principal part of theatrical good manners, is, never to 
speak without an oath, including as its most special objects of 
imprecated wrath, all who deal in canting and hypocrisy. Do I 
belie the theatre? I appeal to facts. "Among the witnesses 
examined by the House of Commons' committee upon dramatic 
literature, was Mr. G. Coleman, the licenser, who it appears, 
has exercised his anomalous function with a greater degree of 
propriety than pleases the stage-managers, actors, the immoral 

IPaper 8th. Brit. Clas. voL 1. 


part of the audience, and, we fear, by the cross questions put to 
him, some of the House of Commons' Committee. He is 
roughly handled in the Committee for declaring, that scriptural 
allusions ought not to be admitted on the stage : that they be- 
come profaned, and have an injurious effect upon the public 
feelings and manners ; and that colloquial oaths are indecent 
and immoral. Some member, apparently vexed at these 
answers, taunts him with his own theatrical publications, and 
asks him if he did not himself introduce swearing and occa- 
sional scriptvire allusions. With great manliness and right 
feeling he avows that he did so, but that at that time he was a 
younger man and "a careless immoral author," and that now 
"he would be very happy to relieve his mind from the recol- 
lection of having written those oaths." We copy these notices, 
says the London Christian Observer, for the use of those who 
still maintain that the stage is a school for virtue. What must 
be the state of morals in the "dramatic circles," when a licenser 
is ridiculed for his fastidiousness, merely for recommending 
the omission of oaths and irreverent scriptural allusions. The 
House of Commons' cross-examiner, talks about some "very 
good joke about Eve," in one of Mr. Coleman's own plays; 
and when Mr. Coleman laments it as being "improper," the 
honorable member by his question attempts to defend it, on the 
ground that "the audience are always struck with it."'" 

To a well mannered gentleman "of the town and the world," 
it is necessary to believe as we are taught by "The World," (a 
witness on this point surely not to be contradicted) "that it is 
now clear to all people of fashion, that men have no souls, and 
that the business of life is pleasure and amusement, and that 
he who can best administer to these two, is the most useful 
member of society. From hence arose those numerous places 
of resort, which men of narrow and splenetic minds have called 
the pests of the public. The most considerable of these places, 
and which at this day are in highest reputation, (we suppose 
among people of fashion) are the bagnios and theatres."* 

"Indeed," that we may again hear Steele on this subject, "as 
the world now goes, we have no adequate idea of what is meant 
by gentlemanly, gentlemanlike, or much of a gentleman ; you 
cannot be cheated at a play, but it is certainly done by 'a very 
gentlemanlylike man ;' you cannot be deceived in your affairs, 
'but it was done in some gentlemanly manner ;' you cannot * 
* * but all the world will say of him that did the injury, it 
must be allowed 'he is very much of a gentleman.' " 

What, I ask in all seriousness, is the character and condition 
of this mirror, from whose polished surface the manners of our 
youth are to be reflected ; by which they are to be taught so 

*WorId No. 9. Brit. Gas. v. 16, p. 39. 


"many useful lessons;"'"}" which "is eminently caulculated to 
humanize the heart ;":j: which is the "most tasteful, pleasing and 
refining of all the forms in which genius ever breathed its 
inspirations to the world," and which "all people who have 
humanized hearts (we supposed they were to get them here), 
and good consciences, ought to hasten to enjoy?"** 

Look at it in France, as described by a French author, M. 
Ceratry, and quoted by the Foreign Quarterly. || "The license 
of the French theatre has been its ruin; morality is as little 
respected as authority. One arrogates to himself the title of a 
man of letters, because, without regard to history, he has ren- 
dered into dialogue, some historical fact, where the characters 
are false, where government is systematically degraded, where 
an established religion is exposed to ridicule ; where names 
dear to families are dragged through the dirt ; and in which, 
with a scandalous cynicism, the veil which protects domestic 
life and the nuptial bed, sanctuaries formerly impenetrable to 
a licentious curiosity, is drawn aside. Literature is now culti- 
vated without a creed." 

Look at it in England. "A father," says Addison, "is often 
afraid that his daughter should be ruined by those entertain- 
ments, which were invented for the accomplishment and refine- 
ing of human nature." Again, "the Greeks and Romans, were 
too wise and good, to let the constant nightly entertainment be 
of such a nature, that people of the most sense and virtue could 
not be at it." Again, "Cuckoldom is the basis of most of 
our modern plays. If an alderman appears upon the stage, 
you may be sure it is in order to be cuckolded. A husband 
that is a little grave or elderly, generally meets with the same 
fate. Knights and baronets, country squires and justices of the 
quorum, come up to town for no other purpose, &c. At the 
same time, the poet so contrives matters, that the two criminals 
are the favorites of the audience. We sit still, and wish well 
to them, through the whole play, are pleased when they meet 
with proper opportunities, and out of humour when they are 
disappointed." "The truth of it is, the accomplished gentleman 
of the English stage is * * * * * 

"I have wondered, that our ordinary poets cannot frame to 
themselves the idea of a fine man who is not a whoremaster, 
or of a fine woman who is not a jilt."* And this is the testi- 

tSee Courier, Dec. 18. JMercury, Dec. 18. 

**To fill the heart with tender and generous emotion, so as to purify it, 
to pour the pure fountain of sympathy over the sordid passions, and to 
wash out with our own tears, the blemishes and stains contracted in the 
world's ways, — was the object of the drama? What a noble object! and 

||See Select. Journal, vol. 1, p. 27. 

*Spectator, No. 446. I must here beg the indulgence of the reader, and 
refer him to the passage. 

21— Vol. v. 


mony of one who is a favorite even among "men of the town 
and the world" — who is a standard with all men of literary 
taste — who himself wrote dramas ; and therefore, to use the 
language of a recent flatterer of the theatre, "what Addison 
disapproved, cannot be right." 

Campbell, author of the work on Rhetoric, is another author, 
who, like Addison, believed in the abstract possibility of the 
drama being made moral and instructive. What is his testi- 
mony upon the present character of the English theatre? "Not 
to mention, says he, the gross indecencies with which many of 
them (the plays) abound, what is generally the hero of the 
piece, but a professed rake or libertine, who is a man of more 
spirit, forsooth, than to be checked in his pursuits by the 
retraints of religion, the dictates of conscience, the laws of 
society, or by the rights of hospitality or private friendship. 
Such an one the poet adorns with all the wit and humour and 
other talents of which he himself is master, and always crowns 
with success in the end. Hence it is that the stage with us 
may, without hyperbole, be defined the school of gallantry and 
intrigue, in other words, the school of dissoluteness. Here, the 
youth of both sexes may get rid of that troublesome companion 
modesty, intended by Providence as a guard to virtue and a 
check to licentiousness. Here vice may soon provide herself 
with a stock of effrontery for effectuating her designs, and 
triumphing over innocence."* We will expect, in the next 
essay on the theatre, to see Campbell also introduced as its 
advocate and defender. 

Shall I ask evidence on this subject, from an able writer in 
the Edinburgh Review, in a long and able article in defence of 
the pure and unadulterated drama. He says, "the influence 
which it is the province of the drama to exert, in exalting the 
standard of sentiment and opinion, is not at this time, it will 
readily be allowed, very efficacious in counterbalancing the 
worldly and vulgar tendency to degrade. Tragedy sleeps side 
by side with the Epic ; and the loftier shapes of comedy have 
dwindled into farce, that most dwarfish imp of all the varieties 
of dramatic humour. The stage seems to have relinquished the 
most common, though not the least moral of its prerogatives, 
viz., to hold the mirror to existing customs, and to correct 
folly by exhibiting it."t In enforcing the necessity, as in 
former times, of giving dramatic representations in the day 
time and not at night, it is further said, "The childish trash 
which now occupies so large a portion of the public attention, 

^Systematic Theology, p. 241. 242. Contrast this with the assertion in 
the Mercury. See p. 21. "It deserves support." Do. 

tSee Selections from Edinburgh Review, vol. 2, p. 540 and contrast this 
with the description of the internal ornaments of New Theatre in the 
Courier Dec. 18. 


could not, it is evident, keep possession of the stage, if it were 
to be presented not at ten o'clock at night, but twelve hours 
earlier;" "the gilded, the painted, the tawdry, the meretricious, 
spangles and tinsel, and tarnished and glittering trumpery 
demand the glare of candle light and the shades of night. "f 

Shall we now look at the condition of the theatre in America? 
It might be sufficient to ask, can the servant be above his 
master, the disciple above his teacher, the copy superior to that 
which gives the impression ? But let us allow a full hearing 
to the witnesses, that there may be every justice rendered to 
the defendant at the bar. In Oct. 19th, 1830, in consequence 
of a memorial presented to the mayor and aldermen of Boston, 
and the confirmation of its statements by a committee of 
twenty, appointed by a numerous meeting of citizens, the pro- 
prietors of the Tremont Theatre directed a committee of nine, 
to make a full and thorough investigation into the state of that 
theatre. Their report is arranged under the head of vindica- 
tion and admissions. Their vindication, using their own words, 
is in substance as follows : 

''1. That there never was any cause of complaint against the 
Tremont theatre, which has not always existed against all thea- 
tres, conducted on the English and American system of setting 
a place apart for women of ill fame, instead of the French sys- 
tem which admits them indiscriminately to all parts of the 

"2. That in respect to the evils resulting from this system, 
and from the sale of refreshments within the theatre, the Tre- 
mont theatre has never been so deserving a subject of reprehen- 
sion as the Federal street theatre used to be. 

"3. That the direct communication between the third row and 
the lower boxes, which formerly existed at the Tremont thea- 
tre, was introduced in conformity with the usage which has 
prevailed in all other cities of the United States. The opinions 
of the majority of this committee, however, is against such a 

Their admissions are remarkable, and are as follows : 

"Mr. Wells, superintendent of the house for juvenile offend- 
ers, testified, that "under the application of a friend who was 
about to make some publications respecting the Theatre, he was 
led to inquire of the boys under his charge whether they were 
not first induced to steal by the strong desire of purchasing 
tickets to visit the theatre ; and that, out of twenty of the oldest 
boys, seventeen confessed that they were ; and two thirds of the 
whole number under his charge confessed they had been to the 

tSelect. Edinburgh Review, vol. 1, p. 337. 

824 discourse; first. 

Mr. Reed stated, "that a young man who had been in his 
employment as an apprentice or clerk, was discovered during 
the last summer to have been dishonest, and to have stolen large 
sums of money from him, and that he had ascertained he and 
others similarly situated used to buy tickets for the theatre, go 
from the boxes to the third row, and thence home with the bad 
women who were found there ; and that he had first become 
acquainted with those women, as he stated, in the third row of 
the theatre. 

Mr. Justice Simmons, of the police Court, "has been made 
acquainted with the character and conduct of those who resort 
to the roiv and gallery, and those who occupy the vestibules and 
passages of the house during the evenings, by examinations 
which have taken place before him in the Police Court, and 
from statements made by constables and other persons conver- 
sant with the theatre, when not under oath." — His statements, 
so far as it is important to quote them, are in these words. 

"It has appeared from these examinations, that all the 
females who resort to the third row are prostitutes, and that no 
woman of chastity ever goes there, unless from ignorance of 
the character of the company, and in such case, immediately 
discovers it and leaves. The males who buy tickets for that 
part of the theatre, are those who are willing to be knoivn and 
seen as associates of prostitutes : it has appeared that a great 
portion of them are addicted to habitual intemperance. The 
assembly is made up of Sailors, Mechanics, Apprentices and 
Journeymen, Gamblers, Stage Drivers and Convicts, who have 
suffered imprisonment in the Common Jail or States Prison — 
in fact an assembly of Males and Females, as dangerous for the 
young to associate with, as any that could be collected in the 
community. Between the acts and during the afterpiece, it has 
appeared that there is usually an accession to this company of 
persons, (it has been stated from 50 to 100) who go from the 
boxes and can return again at pleasure — some of them men, but 
most of them boys or youngsters, such as Merchants' and 
Traders' Clerks, Gentlemen's sons who have no stated employ- 
ment, students, &c. 

"The conduct of the assembly in the third row, has been such 
as would naturally be expected from its character. Indecent 
and profane language, and manners offensive to good breeding, 
have characterized the assembly. Males and females have been 
in the habit of drinking and tippling at the bar, until the excite- 
ment of the liquor resulted in quarrels, brawling and fighting. 
The constables have some times been injured in their attempts 
to expel or subdue combatants. The quantity drank there is 
undoubtedly very great ; I am told by the city marshal, it equals 
all the rest sold in the theatre." 


We close the selections with the following explicit and 
authentic declaration from the committee themselves. "It is 
unquestionably true that the third row as it is called, has been, 
and is, frequented by women of notoriously bad character, and 
for that reason necessarily by no other women. It is also true, 
that very young men and minors, whose respectable connexions 
and domestic education, ought to have made them ashamed of 
the vulgarity, if they were not sensible of the vice, of such com- 
pany and pursuits, have in former years been in the habit of 
frequenting that part of the theatre. It is true, too, that the 
means of intoxication are to be found within the theatre as well 
as without. Where are they not to be found? And it is true, 
as the records of our Police Court show in past years, that 
scenes of riot and disorder have sometimes occurred from this 
congregation of vice. This is nothing new or peculiar to 
THE Tremont Theatre. On the contrary, there has been no 
time within memory, when it was not so at any theatre in 

We are prepared, from this confession, fully to believe the 
declaration of Mr. Caldwell, of the St. Charles theatre, that, 
"for twenty years he had endeavoured to obtain the same 
order and decorum in the theatre as is obtained in the church, 
but, alas, no police can effect it."* We only wonder that it 
should be thought necessary to caution the attendants at the 
new theatre, and that too on the morning after the night on 
which it was first opened, that "several gentlemen had their 
pockets picked last night, "f when this was no more than what 
is common in every theatre of the country, and done "in the 
way of business," and after the very gentlemanly manner of 
"the men of the town and the world," who, of all others, are 
the dearest lovers of the theatre, and feel most exquisitely the 
"most gracious charm of being in the midst of a merry 
crowd. "f Doubtless, they can most sincerely say, that "there 
is a comic, more various, and for variety even more attractive, 
in the audience than on the stage;" they, more than perhaps all 
others, can best take in the ecstasy arising from the contem- 
plation of the "queer faces, the twinkles of the eye, the multi- 

*See Charleston Observer, December 16, 1837. It should here be made 
known, that by a city ordinance, four soldiers attached to the police, are 
required to be in constant attendance upon this theatre. In New-York 
also, and we believe every where, "an efficient police" is deemed requisite 
to keep the mannered gentlemen, of this school of sobriety and fashion, 
from picking each other's pockets, and breaking each other's heads. A 
"gentle hint" has been already given on this subject, to the disciples of the 
"new theatre." We shall expect to hear, by and by, that no one is to be 
hereafter admitted to any theatre, who is not well manacled and gagged. 
Surely no one could desire a school of more free and liberal studies ! ! 

tSouthern Patriot, Saturday, Dec. 16. 

326 discourse; first. 

tudinous and droll discord of applause, from the deliberate 
grunt, to the ringing and silver laugh. "ij: 

We were, also, not a little astonished to hear it publicly 
declared, on Dec. 19th, three days after the opening of the 
theatre, that "a nuisance had grown up, all of a sudden, among 
us, — the habit of yelling in the theatre, — a habit which may do 
very well among a parcel of Indians in a forest, but not in the 
precincts of a theatre!" Surely, when we are informed that 
these things are perfectly naturalized in every theatre, there is 
no necessity for giving "the gentle hint" that "the police" will 
not "suffer men to be savages," "so that if men will not behave 
themselves, they may be made to do so, or turned out."t 

But there is here to be learned, in addition to all we have 
now enumerated, what cannot be so well elsewhere secured,^ 
that knowledge of the world without which no young man is 
prepared to enter upon its trials. What world, I ask, is here 
exhibited ? The world as God made it, or as God would have 
it; the world, as it is a scene of probation, of trial, of danger, 
and of hope ; the world, as it is the vestibule of immorality, and 
involving the destiny of the undying soul ! Or, is it not the 
world, as it lies ruined, despoiled, full of all evil ; breathing out 
malice, hatred, and all uncharitableness : the world as it is a 
mere theatre of amusement, a haunt of dissipation, a school of 
scandal and of crime; a hell of passion, where revenge, and 
treachery, and licentiousness, riot in the misery they have pro- 
duced : an arena, where rival ambition contends for victory : a 
world without a soul ; from which God is excluded, eternity 
shut out, and the great business of life effectually concealed. 
This is the world, with which the teachings of the theatre 
acquaints us ; "all in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of 
the eye, and the pride of life, all that is not of the Father;" — 
this is the knowledge here communicated. Enough to sour the 

JMercury. Dec. 18. tCourier. Dec. 19. 

tif our readers will only carefully watch the devlopments of the new 
theatre, they will soon have lessons too plain to be misunderstood upon its 
real character. Thus we are informed in the Mercury of Dec. 21, that 
"tis true there is a race who in the theatre do spit and whistle, who hold 
discourse of punch, cigars, of horses, yea and asses, to wit themselves, and 
these are a sad drawback — but yet (adds this true devotee) Theatre with all 
thy faults, (asses, pick-pockets, yells and all) I love thee still." We have 
hardly recovered from this panic, when we are told in a tone of great 
alarm, that "several gentlemen were robbed of their pocket-books last 
night, one containing at least the amount of one thousand dollars," possibly 
money belonging to an employer, or a friend.* We do really believe, if the 
visitors of the theatre would, as advised, leave their consciences and their 
pocket-books at home, they would benefit by its instructions (though they 
would give less benefit to some of its well instructed) still more. 

On the back of all this, we hear of disappointments. What next ? We 
are prepared for any thing, even to hear that the new theatre is not 

*See Southern Patriot, Dec. 21. 


temper, to corrupt the imagination, to debase the affections, to 
crucify the benevolent and inspirit the malevolent feelings of 
the soul ; enough to inflate men with pride, vanity, self-esteem, 
and a contemptuous and dark suspicion of all around them ; 
with nothing, nothing that can in any measure stay the progress 
of these evil principles. 

"Long experience of what is called the world," says Mrs. 
Jamieson, in immediate application to this very subject, "of the 
folly, duplicity, shallowness, selfishness, which meets us at 
every turn, too soon unsettles our youthful creed. If it only 
led to the knowledge of good and evil, it were well; if it only 
taught us to despise the illusions, and retire from the pleasures 
of the world, it would be better. But, it destroys our belief; 
it dims all our perception of abstract truth, virtue and happi- 
ness; it turns life into a jest, and a very dull one too; it makes 
us indifferent to beauty, and incredulous of goodness ; it teaches 
us to consider self the centre on which all actions turn, and to 
which all motives are to be referred."* 

Such are the manners, such the instillations of genius, polish 
and refinement, with which the pliant youth of Charleston are 
to be imbued, by a punctual attendance upon this "school of 
manners and of morals ;"§ "teaching, by refined, polished, and 
striking examples, the most important lessons :"§ this "help to 
education, "t this "purifier of taste,"t this "aid to improve- 
ment,"t "the effect of which, upon society, is the very opposite 
to all that is sordid, illiberal and unkind," and to which our 
"youth" ought, therefore, "ever to be prepared to say good 
speed !"t 

It is true "fastidiousness and hypocrisy have grown for 
many years," so "that there is hardly a line in the works of our 
old comic writers tvhich is not reprobated as immoral, or at 
least vulgar ; and that the excessive squeamishness of taste of 
the present day is very unfavorable to the genius of comedy, 


RESTRAINTS."! But when the minds of this community are 
humanized, and their consciences restored to goodness, and 
their understandings properly enlightened, they will enjoy in all 
that luxury of bliss which is the purchase of some previous and 
painful endurance, "the various constraints and sufferings called 
in bitter mockery, pleasure," || and of that "absurd and incon- 
sistent practice of attending public places, in the uncomfortable 
condition which is technically called being dressed, but which is 
in truth, especially in females, being more or less naked and 

*See Characteristics of Women, Introd. ''I also refer to Burke vol 10 
p. 155 and 157. Eng. Ed. ' ' ' 

§ Southern Patriot Dec. 14, 18.37. tCourier Dec. 5, 1837. 

tSelect. Edinburgh Review, vol. 1, p. 2.38. 
IIEdinburgh Review, vol. 1, p. 337. 

328 discourse; i^irst. 

undressed. § They can then expatiate in their untrammelled 
freedom, with no "bigots to pervert or misinterpret their lan- 
guage,"*f and by a full tide of successful experiment, demon- 
strate to this community, the power of this establishment, as 
"the most effectual dispensary of moral propriety, "*"j" for "the 
improvement of its morals and refinement of its manners."** 
When, to use the language of Burke, in reference to the theatres 
of France, they have thus "corrupted young minds through 
pleasure and formed them to crimes," "whilst children are 
poisoned at this school ;" "whilst every thing prepares the body 
to debauch, and the mind to crime," "the minds of young men 
will receive a taint in their religion, their morals and their 
politics, which they will in a short time communicate to the 
whole kingdom." "With all these causes of corruption, we 
may well judge what the general fashion of mind will be, 
through both sexes and all conditions. Such spectacles and 
such examples, will overbear all the laws that ever blackened 
the cumbrous volumes of our statutes." "Better this country 
should be sunk to the bottom of the sea, than that it should not 
be a country of religion and morals."* 

SEdinburgh Review, vol. 1, p. 337. See Southern Patriot, Dec. 16. 

*tMercury Dec. 18. 1837. **Southern Patriot Dec. 16. 

*See Burke's Works vol. 9th, p. 119 and 120. One of the late encomiums 
on the theatre, was headed with the quotation from Burke, which, with the 
best edition of his works at hand, we have in vain sought for, either in his 
Essay on the Drama or elsewhere, while we have found, as in Addison, 
much in reprobation of theatres. 





We have already discoursed upon the theatre, considered as 
a school of religion and of manners. In so doing, we have 
endeavoured to escape from the repudiated plan of lecturing 
the theatre into sobriety and purity ; and have, therefore, held 
the mirror up to her own unmasked countenance, to shew her 
own features, "scorn her own image, vice her own deformity, 
the very age and body of the time its form and pressure." We 
have thus purposely avoided the introduction of authorities, 
whose very sacredness and high religious standing, might create 
insuperable prejudices against them, and to allow the managers, 
patrons, and advocates of the theatre "to speak its praise." 
Should our argument, therefore, appear in any degree incon- 
clusive, it must be remembered that it is founded on the ex 
parte evidence of theatricals themselves, and that the whole 
weight of opposite and unrefuted testimony is to be added to 
it; but should the argument, as we cannot but believe it will, 
carry conviction to every mind which impartially examines it, 
then, it is to be recollected, that the theatre stands exposed and 
condemned by its own confessed impurity as a school of reli- 
gion and of manners. 

Let us now proceed, in the last place, to the examination of 
the theatre as a school of morals. Much, in illustration of this 
point has been already adduced ; but, as great stress is laid upon 
this part of its assumed character, it will be necessary to give 
it a distinct consideration. 

When I look out upon this community, embracing its thou- 
sands of human beings, on their way to the judgment seat of 
Christ ; involved in guilt and ruin ; "condemned already ;"* 
with no other possibility of escape than by giving all diligence 
to work out their salvation with fear and trembling ;f yet 
possessed by hearts which are deceitful above all things and 
desperately wicked ;J my God ! can it be that men, professing 
themselves to be the friends of religion and humanity, will, 

*John iii. 18. tPhil. ii. 12. $Jer. xvii. 9. 


under the guise and character of morahty, allure them to the 
theatre ! Assail these melancholy truths with your profane 
laughter and your jocose merriment ye, "men of the town and 
the world," and I will answer, as did Sir Francis Walsingham 
to the facetious wit by whom he was ridiculed, "Ah, while you 
laugh, all things are serious around us. God is serious, who 
preserves us and has patience towards us; Christ is serious, 
who shed his blood for us ; the Holy Spirit is serious, when he 
strives with us ; the whole creation is serious, in serving God 
and us ; all are serious in another world ; how suitable is it for 
man, who has one foot in the grave to be serious ; 'and how can 
he be gay and trifling?' "|| "Fools" only "make a mock of 

Is it necessary to prove the immoral tendency of the theatre, 
and again to open up to public view its hidden works of dark- 
ness? It is necessai-y, for we are challenged to the proof, and 
it has and will be given. For a thousand years we have been 
told, that a well written drama is not in itself sinful, and that it 
has occupied the time and talents of the best of men ; but surely 
a well written drama is not the theatre. Again, that a stage 
well and virtuously regulated in all its movements might prove 
conducive to the interests of humanity ; but surely a Utopian 
vision, a Platonic theory, which yet slumbers in the bosom of 
an abstract possibility, is not to turn the edge of argument as 
applied to The theatre that is, and the EFEECTS which are 
KNOWN TO EOLLOW IT. And again, that unless all the dramas 
acted upon the stage are evil, no objection can lie against 
it;** — but is this a doctrine adapted to the condition of a heart 
"prone to evil, in an evil world," and exposed to the seductions 
of the "evil one ;" where the mine is already dug, and it 
requires but one spark to fire it. We are also told, that a man 
may frequent the theatre, and yet not necessarily be ruined in 
his moral character or habits : but will either love to God who 
wills their salvation, or love to those whose salvation is at stake, 
sanction us, in giving our encouragement to what is notoriously 
instrumental to the fall, degradation and perdition of many 
souls. The time has been, in the history of the church, when 
it could boast of fox-hunting, ball-frequenting and theatre- 
going ministers and elders ; but that day is. we trust, fast 
waning into its midnight oblivion, and its unsightly shapes fast 
fading from the memory of affrighted men.* 

1 1 See Power of Religion, p. 54. §Prov. xiv. 

**Def. of Drama, p. 75, "until all plays (his own capitals) are proved 
to possess this pernicious inclination, the stage remains uninjured." 

*It was indeed whispered in my ear (I hope it is false and unfounded 

scandal) that a member of a church in not only sustained the 

theatre, but did go so far as to advocate the doctrine, that dancing formed 

discourse; second. 831 

Shall I then, to come to the question at issue, which is, the 
moral or immoral tendency of the theatre, in all that is neces- 
sarily or generally found to be connected with, or consequent 
upon, the theatre — Shall I trace it to its origin? Let this 
defender of the drama be himself the historian of this impor- 
tant subject. "The show was a principal part of the religious 
worship" of the Greeks and Romans. "In these shows the 
amours of the Gods were related and sung with the accompa- 
niments of music and dancing — the whole forming the most 
obscene and disgraceful spectacle, possible to be conceived. 
much less exhibited before any people advanced beyond the 
verge of barbarism. The lowest stews alone could furnish 
prostitutes enough to be assistant characters at these festive 
debaucheries ; the full description of which would only sully 
my pages, offend decency, and repel the eye of modesty. "§ 
This is so satisfactory we need not enquire further on this 

Shall I then follow the theatre in its progress of refinement, 
purity and morals? We shall be informed by Augustine, in 
the name of the whole body of the Fathers, "that the stage was 
introduced into Rome for the recreation of sensualists, and 
admitted by the dissolute morals of the times." This, the 
already quoted defender of the drama admits, "might be true," 
liad not Augustine, in another place, used a figurative, instead 
of a literal expression, with "the absurdity of which he will not 
insult the understanding" of his readers.* 

We shall find theatres branded by the whole body of the 
Christian Church, and renunciation of them embodied in the 
form of christian baptism and profession,f until, in the most 
precious and enlightened period of its history — the dark ages — 
when it was impossible to distinguish truth from error, or vice 
from virtue, the theatre was placed under the protection of 
monks, and the churches were converted into theatres.^ We 
shall discover them rising wherever there was irreligion, vice, 
and immorality to sustain them, and disappearing before the 
light and power of a diffused Christianity. During the time in 
which the Puritans of England — those men to whom, as even 
Hume testifies, England owes the preservation of her rights 
and her liberties — exercised a ruling influence over the nation, 
the theatre was closed for thirteen years. When Charles was 
restored they were restored, and attendance upon them formed 

no inconsiderable or unmeaning part of the worship of God, and that the 
"beauty of holiness" was as well exemplified in the figures of the young 
ladies in the ball room, as when they waited upon God in the sanctuary. 

§ Defence of Drama, p. 37. 

*See Witherspoon's Works, vol. 6, p. 67. tSee p. 61. 

tSee Father Cafi^rario's Letter, p. 161, also, Edinburgh Rev'w, vol. 1, 
p. 326, and Burns' Eccles. Law, vol. 1, p. 389, and 513. 


one of the most urgent topics of the pulpit. 1 1 We know that in 
Paris, during the revokition, when churches were every where 
shut up, and their "canting hypocrisy"§ silenced, the "opera 
houses, the play houses, the public shows, of all kinds, increased 
at least fourfold; with all their equipments, brothels, gambling 
houses, every thing."** "And there is no doubt," that were 
the principles of that happy period settled in a triumphant man- 
ner, "they would carry all these arts to their utmost perfection, 
and cover them with every species of imposing magnificence. "ff 

Who will bear testimony to the morality of the theatre? 
Shall I ask it from that most enlightened, learned, and liberal 
genius, the apostate Julian — the restorer of Paganism, the 
friend and patron of the theatre, and of all other similar "good 
works?" "At obscene theatrical entertainments let not a priest 
be present, nor admit them in his own house ; as nothing can 
be more unbecoming. And if all such exhibitions could be 
banished from the stage, and if all houses could be kept pure 
from Bacchus, I would use my utmost efforts to effect such a 
reform. But * * * I have abandoned that vain pursuit. 
I think it, however, highly proper for priests to absent them- 
selves from theatres, and to leave THEIR easciviousness to the 

Shall I solicit evidence from that Epicurean devotee of pleas- 
ure and sensuality. Lord Chesterfield? "I must own, indeed, 
I have observed of late a remarkable licentiousness in the 
theatre. There have but very lately been two plays acted, 
which one would have thought should have given the greatest 
offence, and yet both were suffered to be often represented 
without disturbance, without censure. How these pieces came 
to pass unpunished I do not know."$ "I am as much for 
restraining the licentiousness of the stage, as any of your lord- 
ships can be."|$ "The fine gentleman of Dryden," he further 
says, "as he generally draws him, is an atheistic, lewd, aban- 
doned fellow, which was at that time (and ever since) the 

||"At this time," says Lord Chesterfield, "the play house retailed nothing 
but the politics, the vices and the follies of the court, not to expose them, 
but to recommend them."* This too, when the theatre was under the 
restraints of a license! How hopeful a thing is "a well regulated stage!" 

iDefence of Drama. 

**See Burke's Works, vol. 9, p. 7. Theatres increased from six to 

ttSee Burke's Works vol. 9, p. 117. 

tSee this and more, in Duncombe's Julian, vol. 1, p. 140. 

JSee speech on licensing the theatres, in "Select Speeches," vol. 1, 180. 
Should any one sustain the assertion, that this was the composition of Dr. 
Johnson, (a position sufficiently confuted by Mr, Chapman) then it gives 
to it the authority of both, since it is certain Lord Chesterfield fathered it 
as his own. 

$$Ditto p. 185. 

*See Speeches, vol. 1. p. 188. 

discourse; second. 383 

fashionable character at court, &c." "The city of London, too, 
was made to feel the partial and mercenary licentiousness of 
the stage."§ This is the testimony of Lord Chesterfield, at the 
very moment he assures us "he is pleading the cause of the 
British stage, and of every gentleman of taste in the kingdom." 

Shall I ask the author of "The World," himself a dependent 
upon the world? In addition to the testimony already given 
by him, he tells us that "the bagnios were under the direction 
of the matrons, while the management of the theatres was the 
province of the men. The mutual connexion between these 
houses made it convenient that they should be erected in the 
neighbourhood of each other, and indeed, the harmony subsist- 
ing between them has inclined many people to think that the 
profits of both were divided equally by each."* &c. &c. 

Or shall I make request of Rousseau, himself a deist, a sen- 
sualist, and an idolator of fame? Though Rousseau had writ- 
ten for the stage, did he not publicly oppose its establishment in 
Geneva, as being in all cases a school of vice? Or perhaps 
the testimony of Sir Walter Scott, who certainly did not speak 
from theory, will be regarded with more deference. The fol- 
lowing is from his life by Lockhart. "To write for low, 
ill-informed and conceited actors whom you must please, for 
your success is necessarily at their mercy, I cannot away with. 
How would you, or how do you think I should relish being the 
object of such a letter as Kean wrote t'other day, to a poor 
author, who, though a pedantic blockhead, had at least the right 
to be treated like a gentleman, by a copperlaced two-penny tear- 
mouth, rendered mad by conceit and success. Besides, if this 
objection were out of the way, I do not think the character of 
the audience in London is such that one could have the least 
pleasure in pleasing them. One half come to prosecute their 
debaucheries so openly, that it would degrade a bagnio ; another 
come to snooze off their beef-steaks and port wine ; a third are 
critics of the fourth column of a newspaper ; fashion, wit or 
literature, there is not : and on the whole, I would far rather 
write verses for my old friend Punch and his audience." Did 
not Sir John Hawkins testify that "a play house and the regions 
about it, are the very hot-beds of vice?" Did not Sir Alatthew 
Hale declare, that "having been nearly ruined in his moral 
character, by attendance on the theatre, he had abandoned it?" 
Did not Dr. Johnson, in his life of Congreve, in reference to 
the work of Collier, on the immortality and profaneness of the 
English stage, say, "His onset was violent ; those passages 
which, while they stood single, had passed with little notice, 

§Ditto p. 189. 

*See this and the continuation in The World, No. 9. British Classics 
vol. 15, p. 39. 


when they were accumulated and exposed together, excited 
horror ; the wise and the pious caught the alarm ; and the nation 
wondered why it had suffered irreligion and licentiousness to 
be openly taught at the public charge. "§ 

Shall I turn myself to those who are themselves the proprie- 
tors and managers of theatres? I direct you to the vindication 
and admissions of the committee on the Tremont theatre, to the 
confession of the managers of St. Charles theatre, and to the 
admissions already made in reference to the Charleston theatre, 
and which are so fast multiplying upon us. 

Or shall I take the evidence of those who have been them- 
selves frequenters of the theatre? Professor Griscom, of 
New- York, in a report on the causes of vice and crime, states, 
"Among the causes of vicious excitement in our city, none 
appear to be so powerful as theatre amusements. The number 
of boys and young men who have become determined thieves, 
in order to procure the means of introduction to the theatres 
and circus, would appal the feelings of every virtuous mind, 
could the whole truth be laid before them. In the case of the 
feebler sex, the result is still worse: a relish for the amuse- 
ments of the theatre, without the means of indulgence, becomes 
Ico often a motive for listening to the first suggestions of the 
seducer, and thus prepares the unfortunate captive of sensuality 
for the haunts of infamy."* "Night after night," says the 
writer of a communication in the New- York Observer, in refer- 
ence to the destruction of a promising young man, "have I 
attended the theatre, and night after night witnessed the attend- 
ance of those who were in absolute want of the necessaries of 
life. I have frequently seen, among the theatre-going public, 
men, who called themselves gentlemen, who were in the habit 
of associating with the 'vilest of the vile,' and whose actions, 
could they but be known to the reflecting part of the commu- 
nity, would cover them with infamy and disgrace. But these 
facts, to many, will appear like a thrice-told tale."t 

Shall I then, as a last resort, sit in examination upon the 
entertainments of the theatre? Where, I most fearlessly ask, 
is the play which can be sustained upon the modern stage, that 
will not call up the blush of shame ; that will not enkindle the 
flame of evil passion ; that will not fill the mouth with blas- 

§Not to be too long, we refer our readers to the very full opinions of 
Lord Kaimes, never suspected of the heresy of being religious overmuch, in 
his Elements of Criticism, quoted in Dr. Miller's sermon, p. 174, Edn. of 
Witherspoon. On making known the nature of the statements in these 
discourses, to a gentleman in Charleston, who has been long a frequenter 
of theatres in New-York, Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore, he told me, 
I might rest assured, that every conceivable vice was carried on within 
them, as well before the scenes as behind. 

*See Charleston Observer, July 1832. 

tSee also Report of the Boston Committee. 


phemy; that will not insult nature; force us to the admiration 
of vice, and that is not, if not thick larded with the very essence 
of impiety, at least utterly devoid of any thing like true piety? 
I challenge the production of one, or, at least, of many such 
dramas. I will not except the tragedy of Douglas, "inculcat- 
ing, as it is asserted it does, "the purest principles of religion, "ij: 
but which, we are prepared to show, is in utter antagonism, in 
its effect and spirit, to the genius of the Gospel. Nay, I shall 
not except any one or all of the effusions of him who is idola- 
trously worshipped, as the perfection of genius and humanity. 
"Shakespeare has always coarseness intermixed. I am not 
sure that he ever continues two pages together of pure poetry; 
he sullies it by descending to colloquialities."| | Who is there 
that has ever read a page of Shakespeare, who will not respond 
to the sentiment of Young — § 

"And yet in Shakespeare something still I find, 
Which makes me less admire all human kind." 

The man who could prefer being mean among the meanest 
of a London rabble, to the faithful discharge of his domestic 
duties; the man who, while absent and indifferent to his own 
wife, could yet weep, in supplicating entreaty, to a common 
courtezan ; the man who, with a fortune to divide as his inherit- 
ance, could, in bitter mockery, bequeath to the wife of some 
twenty-five years, a bed, on which we suppose she might lie 
down and die ;* such a man, whatever may be the supremacy 
of his genius, is not libelled by Chateaubriand, when he says of 
him, that "he believed in love no more than he believed in any 
thing else," and that "there is much in him which it is a weari- 
some task to read."t Most truly do we wish with Ben John- 
son, that instead of never blotting out a line he had written 
"would he had blotted a thousand !" And most truly Mrs. 
Jamieson gives no enviable picture of her sex, when she 
avouches, on their behalf, that the characters of Shakespeare's 
women, even of his Lady Ann, are still found, in plentiful 
abundance among the politest and most exalted circles, and that 
they are indebted for any virtue they possess, to chance, and to 
it equally for their freedom from open vice.$$ 

But shovild a single tragedy be pointed out, to which it were 
captious to object, or even several which might pass a not too 
rigid censorship, will these support a theatre ; dare these consti- 
tute the moral teachings, the religious exhibitions, of any 

ISee Introd. to, in the British Theatre. 

1 1 Sir Egerton Brydes, in his Milton, vol. 5, p. 183. §See Satires. 

*After enumerating all his legatees, he comes at last to think of his wife, 
of whom he says, "Item, I give unto my wife my brown bedstead, with the 

tSee Lit. of Engand. ttSee Characteristics of Women, Introd. 


theatre? Ah, what means "yonder row?" What scenes are 
enacted there? Into what future course does that "wide gate" 
open ? What means yonder bar room, where the excitement of 
the imagination may find kindred spirits ; where the unbalanced 
judgment may have all its doubts removed; where the waver- 
ing conscience may be wound up to a pitch of noble daring; 
where the unchained passions may break loose upon their ready 
prey ? What means yonder downcast head ; that vermillion in 
the cheek; that struggle of the bursting heart, that fevered 
expression of the eye; those lips on which sit awakened feeling, 
and the whole frame agitated by irresistible emotion? My 
reader, it may be your friend, yoiir sister, or your daughter. 
The sting has entered her soul. Her young heart has felt the 
hitherto unknown impulse of awakened passion ; but, yet untu- 
tored to the indulgence of vice, she is amazed to find herself 
where secresy and forgetfulness afford no hiding place. 

I will speak to facts. Behold that youth. There he sits 
wrapped in the enchantments of this brilliant and everpowering 
scene. For the first time he has entered this crowded and 
attractive show. He is about twenty-two years of age. He is 
a journeyman printer. He has come to the city to push his 
fortune, — is skilful and has obtained a situation. His kind 
master warned and dissuaded him; but he would go — just once. 
He went twice — thrice. He formed the habit of theatrical 
attendance. Was it not to study in this school of religion, 
manners and morals? Led away from the realities of life, 
disgusted with its insipid every-day concerns, unsatisfied with 
its domestic joys, he rushes to the excitement and self forget- 
fulness of the theatre, to the recesses of the theatre, to the pur- 
lieus of the theatre, to the free attendants upon the theatre, to 
all the habits of the theatre. He becomes idle. He must have 
money, and he steals. He becomes expert in crime. He is 
discovered, imprisoned, tried and condemned, and now lies 
incarcerated in his prison-cell. This is no theory — it is fact ; 
and, my reader, with appropriate alterations, this may be your 
friend, your brother, your son. 

Who is that who wanders through the streets, homeless, 
pennyless, friendless ; with nothing to satisfy the cravings of a 
famished body ; with no smoothed pillow on which to lay his 
aching head ? His countenance is pale with despair. He gazes 
round with the vacant stare of hopelessness. In the world, he 
feels no longer of it ; in the crowd of the city he is all alone ; 
surrounded by gaiety and fashion, he is unknown and unpitied. 
That were a youth of bright and cheering promise. He left the 
home of piety and affection. He came a stranger to this strange 
city. He entered the theatre. He was seduced by its alluring 
inmates. He ventured upon those paths which lead to the 


gates of hell. He yielded to the temptations of dishonesty, and 
he is now cast out, a helpless wanderer through a pitiless 
world ! 

Come with me to yonder habitation. There dwells one who 
once was young, and beautiful, and virtuous. Heaven called 
her as its own. She heard the voice. She listened and obeyed. 
Thrice lovely did she seem, as she now walked in those ways 
which are all pleasantness and peace. To crown her happiness, 
she was led to the bridal altar. She became a wife — a mother 
— the fond parent of beloved and lovely children. In some 
unhappy hour, she was led to visit this school of moral teach- 
ing. She went again. She loved to go. Lured by the 
splendours of the place; her fancy overpowered by its brilli- 
ance ; her imagination bewildered by its romantic visions ; her 
vanity awakened by its flattery; her passions agitated by its 
half-concealed, but well understood allusions ; the voice of 
emotion at her ear ; she walked along the slippery edge of peril- 
ous temptation ; she listened ; she hesitated ; she struggled ; she 
fell. Oh, what a fall was there ! — from home, from happiness, 
from heaven ! Is this a dream ; a picture of wild imagining ; 
or do I see in it the possible condition of those whom we love 
above our chief joy. 

Morality! The morality of the theatre! How much may 
mothers here learn, which they can repeat to their listening 
group of yet innocent children. How well may wives be 
instructed in the frailty, the necessary weakness, of woman. 
How powerfully may the young be attracted to the imitation of 
the rake, and fired with the ambition of bettering the examples 
set before them. How admirably will all be thus fitted for dis- 
charging the duties of life, and engaging in the severe exercises 
of piety.f While pride is fostered as spirit ; and vanity as 
reasonable self-love; and revenge as true dignity; and suspici- 
ous scepticism of man as necessary caution ; and indifference 
towards all religious opinions as true charity ; and deism as the 
sum total of all theology : and, on the other hand, while humility 
is repressed as meanness ; and liberality as prodigal waste ; and 
private, family, and sabbath devotion as the very puritanism of 
a sanctimonious and unnatural piety : while the disciple of the 
theatre is taught that God is too merciful to punish ; that human 

tThat the theatre indisposes and unfits us for the duties of life, we have 
a home confession from an attendant, and apparently a very regular one at 
the new theatre. "When we have been overmastered, enslaved, bound up 
in a spell that almost stifles the currents of life, we feel little disposed the 
next morning to get upon our tall chair, (in the counting room) sharpen 
the end of a goose-quill, parade a page of ragged-edged foolscap. 
Heavens !"* when this habit is confirmed, what an excellent merchant, 
teacher or house-wife one would be ! 

*See Mercury, Dec. 23. 

22— Vol. v. 


suffering is full atonement for human guilt ; and that a course 
of debauchery and open sin is the happiest prelude to a life of 
virtue; — how will the young disciple of this school of morals 
go forth in the panoply of virtue, fight manfully the fight of 
faith, keep the course of early piety, and press on to the prize 
of his heavenly calling. How vigorously will this soil shoot up 
the seeds of inbred holiness; cool down the fire of evil con- 
cupiscence, and all inordinate affections; engender the bland 
graces of meekness and love, and cultivate the spirit of prayer 
and meditation; elevate the thoughts and the affections to 
heaven; and "render the life and character what is pourtrayed 
to us in the passage of Scripture to which we have directed 
your attention. f 

The theatre will reform and humanize! Where? When? 
Whom has it reformed? What drunkard has it checked, in his 
course of suicidal ruin? What debauchee has it converted 
from his way of self-indulgent profligacy? What rake has it 
ever stopped, in his progress of debasement? What adulterer, 
fornicator, thief, or pick-pocket has it ever induced to become 
chaste, virtuous, and honest? What profane swearer has it 
taught to think and speak reverently of Him that made, and 
who will hereafter judge him? What "savage" has it ever 
civilized, except through the "policeman," the gaol, or the jib- 
bet? No, the graphic sign-board of the theatre is terrifiically 
descriptive of its character. "This is the way to the Pit." 
"This is the way to the Pit." This is the way to that Pit which 
is bottomless, and the smoke of whose torments ascendeth for 
ever and ever.* 

tAnd here we would offer another challenge to the "lovers of the 
theatre." It is to carry into execution, a plan "which Addison approved, 
and which must be right ;" but which, we exceedingly regret, Addison neg- 
lected to carry into execution, and that is, "to compile a system of ethics 
out of the writings of those corrupt Poets, (the writers of our modern 
plays) under the title of stage morality," and we would add, stage theology 
and stage manners ! or it will do as well if they will write "a history of a 
young fellow who has taken all his notions of the world from the stage, 
and who has directed himself in every circumstance of his life and conver- 
sation, by the maxims and example of the fine gentleman in English 
comedies !"** 

*A young man, on reaching the door of a theatre, overheard the door- 
keepers calling out "this is the way to the pit." Having had some 
instruction in the word of God in early -life, he interpreted what the man 
said, that the employments of the theatre led to hell. The thought haunted 
him, made him cease frequenting such amusements ; he became attentive 
to the concerns of his soul ; and was afterwards a preacher of the 

If any one is of opinion that I have not done full justice to the morality 
of the theatre, I confess that I have not, and that, moreover, I cannot, 
without soiling these pages too much with its immorality. I refer any one 
who wishes further satisfaction, to the same writer, who gives an account 
of a scene acted on an ancient stage, and which, in his Letter to a Lady, 
Mr. Mansel relates, and pronounces to be perfectly paradisaical, and all 

♦^Spectator, No. 446. 


And who are to be our teachers in this school, where "Harle- 
quin ridicules heaven and exposes religion ;"** where "they are 
suffered," as MoUiere himself testifies, "to expose religion itself 
every night publicly !"** Of the present manager and board of 
actors of the "new theatre" I cannot, and do not wish to speak, 
directly or indirectly. To the profession, I may freely, and 
without personal oft"ence, allude. And what is that profession ? 
His society makes the man, and a man is always known by his 
company, are two old adages not yet quite worn out of truth. 
"Evil communications corrupt good manners," is the maxim of 
inspiration, and of the drama itself.* Now, these being true, 
how can play-actors be other than what they continually strive 
to represent, and to imitate to the lifePf If actors thus enter 
into the full spirit of their assumed characters, as it is their 
boast to do, then I may quote what Dr. Johnson said to Gar- 
rick (though it is not a sentence I should myself pronounce) 
that, "if he really believed himself to be such a monster, he 
deserved to be hanged every time he performed it."$ Of 
course the punishment would be graduated to the degree in 
which actors had arrived at a resemblance to the characters 
they perform. The engagement of an actor is one which even 
the advocates of the drama have considered disreputable, and 
which, with few exceptions, has been invariably regarded as 
base and immoral. Hear Adam Smith on this subject, who 
will hardly be called "an unlettered bigot." || "The exorbitant 
reward of players, opera singers, and opera dancers, &c., are 
founded upon these two principles : the variety and beauty of 
the talents, and the discredit of employing them in this man- 
ner. * * * We despise their persons and yet reward their 
talents with the most profuse liberality. * * * Many people 
possess such talents, who disdain to make this use of them, and 
many more are capable of acquiring them if any thing could be 
made honorably by them."§ The exercise of these talents in 
this way, is considered, he says, "as a sort of public prostitu- 
tion," though "it commands a certain sort of admiration." 

That this profession is thus generally regarded, I need not 
take much time to prove. I may however introduce the very 
remarkable testimony of Rousseau, on this subject. "I observe 
in general, that the situation of an actor, is a state of licentious- 
ness and bad morals ; that the men are abandoned to disorder : 

worthy of continual repetition. See Defence of Drama, p. 52 &c. The 
abuse of private characters and professions, except those of "men of the 
town and the world," he pronounces the "glorious eulogium" of the 
theatre, p. 66. 

**See Select Speeches, vol. i. p. 185. Lord Chesterfield's Speech. 

*See Defence of the Drama. tSee Witherspoon, on the stage. 

tSee Boswell's life of, vol. 4, p. 234. || Defence, p. 172. 

§Wealth of Nations, p. 44, one volume edition. 


that the women lead a scandalous life; that the one and the 
other, at once avaricious and profane, ever overwhelmed with 
debt, and ever prodigal ; are as unrestrained in their disposi- 
tion, as they are void of scruple in respect to the means of 
providing for it. In all countries, their profession is dishonor- 
able ; those who exercise it are every where contemned. Even 
in Paris, a sober citizen would fear to be on terms of intimacy 
with the same actors who may be seen every day at the tables 
of the great. This contempt is strongest wherever the 
MANNERS ARE MOST PURE, and there are countries of innocence 
and simplicity, where the trade of an actor is held almost in 
horror. These are incontestible facts. You will say, they 
result only from prejudices. I agree to it ; but these prejudices 
being universal, we must seek for an universal cause ; and I do 
not see where we can find it except in the profession itself."* 
Was not Otway, "one of the most distinguished names in the 
English drama," a man in whose plays, "there is not a virtuous 
character ;" and one of whose plays, though at first successful, 
was "in 1740, hissed off the English stage ! for immorality or 
obscenity ! !"f If it is said, that it is unfair to charge upon 
the theatre the character of its actors, we refer to the defence 
of the drama, where it is said, "I deem a review of the lives of 
its principal professors, to be a fair and justifiable mode of 
proving its tendency to morality, or its inclination to im- 
purity."! "How glorious an eulogium ! this is the highest 
panegyric upon the stage, I have ever had the good fortune to 
peruse!"! | 

It is admitted by the defender of the drama, that according 
to religionists, the heathen philosophers and the fathers, "the 
use of a theatre is attended with all abominations ;"§ that it was 
an establishment "forced upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem at 
the expense of several lives," and "diametrically opposite to the 
laws and customs of the Jews ;" that the very persons who are 
"soothed and enchanted" by their performance and "who ap- 
plaud them to the skies," "the next day avoid, despise, contemn 
them."** -"Members of every order, distinction and body 
unite, as it were by common consent, to depress genius, because 
it is theatrical. "ft "These numerous enemies of the drama have 
so completely abridged its utility, that very few indeed are 
alive to its monitory effects or its purifying capability."^! 
Actors are exposed to "slights that disgrace them in their own 
eyes ;"§§ and it is confessed that "the prodigal, when reduced to 

♦Christian Observer, vol. 4. p. 239, quoted in Miller's Sermon, p. 177. 

tSee Anderson's British Poets, vol. 6, p. 445. 

tDefence of Drama, p. 20.'^. 

I [Ditto, p. 66. §Ditto, p. 263. **Ditto. p. 26.5. 

ttDefence of Drama, p. 92. tJDitto, p. 239. §§Ditto, p. 226. 


the state of a swine-herd, was not more an object of sympathy 
than the curse of feehng and susceptibiUty united in the way- 
ward lot of an itinerant player." || Styles informs us, that a 
celebrated comic performer, meeting with a clergyman whom 
he had once intimately known, said, in the course of conversa- 
tion, "And I have been acting Sir John Falstaff so often that I 
thought I should have died ; and the physicians advise me to 
come into the country, for the benefit of the air. Had you 
died, (he was also in bad health ) it would have been in serving 
the best of masters, but had I, it would have been in the service 
of the Devil. As soon as I leave you, I shall be King Richard. 
This is what they call a good play. I acknowledge there are 
some striking and moral things in it ; but after it, I shall come 
in again, with my farce of 'a dish of all sorts,' and knock all 
that on the head. Fine reformers we!"§ I shall not add one 
line to this graphic picture of these "pious helpers of such pious 
mirth," but merely ask, "Can men learn piety from the profane, 
mortification from the sensual, or modesty from harlots? And 
will any deny that hired stage-players have always, and that 
deservedly, borne these characters. "*f 

Who, then, are to be expected as our associated fellow stu- 
dents in this school of morality ; this school, which is "to second 
the efiforts of the pulpit ;"** that can "smile us into the sweet 
dream of faith ;"$ while, at the same time, free from "the 
gloom of methodism," it "amuses the lambs of grace, and gives 
its trifling aid to the work of regeneration ;"* presents "a 
powerful barrier against an inundation of hypocritical fanatic- 
ism; and exposes the baseness and corruption" "of these mod- 
ern saints, with their affected sternness of manner, and bru- 
tality of behaviour ;"t "strips them of their assumed holiness, 
and thus consigns them to neglect and contumely."*^ Who, I 
ask, in this school of wisdom, "which is sanctioned by the laws 
of the land, and has been strongly countenanced by one of the 
most moral and religious princes that ever graced a throne, but 
whose religion our fanatics cannot appreciate, and whose mor- 
ality they despise,"*§ who are to be our fellow disciples? Why 
truly not any of the "bible-mongers,"§§ none of "those impos- 
ters in the livery of religion, "|| none of the "saints who 
experience a call, mistaking intoxication for inspiration,"!* 
none of those who take delight in "hymns and bibliomancy ;"tt 

I i Ditto, p. 238. §Quoted in Miller's Sermon, p. 192. 

*tWitherspoon's Works, vol. 6, p. 118. **Def. of Drama, p. 197. 

JDitto. p. 226. 

*Defence of Drama, p. 241. 

tDitto, p. 273, the note here is well worth reading. 
*tDitto, p. 267. See the continuation. 

*§Ditto, p. 271, 272. This is no less than George III. himself, the perse- 
cutor of America ! What else did he countenance ? 

§§Ditto, p. 192. JJDitto, p. 234. t*Ditto, p. 235. ttDitto, p. 260. 


oh no ! none of those who find improvement in attending upon 
"our moral sermons."|f And who will they be? Such as are 
"sensualists, and dissolute in manners ;"*| such "as have no 
better resort than haunts of dissipation," and of "low and cor- 
rupting pleasure ;"§§ such as "after a long drowth of rational 
amusements, "f I "hail the new theatre as an era in the annals of 
taste ;"*§ such as "in that uncomfortable condition, technically 
called being dressed, but which is in truth, being more or less 
naked, "f§ make up "the dress circle which constitutes the chief 
requisite of a proper theatrical coup d'oeil/'X^ those who, 
from their former "haunts of dissipation," come here to be 
"reformed altogether ;"* and finally, "those wretched unfor- 
tunates, over whom reflection must weep, and for whom mor- 
ality must sigh ; whose vices delicacy cannot conceal, nor 
liberality defend; the miserable fate of whom," the patrons of 
the theatre "zvonld not aggravate by one harsh reflection /'-^ — 
these, and all such as go to make up the "elite and fashion of 
the community," the "men of the town and the world," "the 
polite gentry," of this enlightened city4 

Let it then be fully understood, that the new theatre is erected 
for such ; that to the taste and habits of such it is adapted : that 
to such it will "dispense its moral proprieties," "improve their 

ttDitto, p. 277. *tDitto. p. 61. §§Southern Patriot, Dec. 14. 

tlMercury Dec. 18. *§Courier, Oct. 5. 

t§Edinburgh Review, vol. 1, p. 337. 

4§Patriot, Dec. 16. Perhaps the following caustic lines of Dante, would 
be as applicable to the theatre-going ladies of Charleston, as of Florence. 
They are at all events, apropos to the ladies of the stage, if we did not 
misunderstand the broad liints of some gentlemen, who admired much the 
much exposed form, and figure of a certain lady. And should we enjoy the 
anticipated performance of opera dancing, the consummation of this state 
of "nakedness" and "undress," in which nature is exhibited "to the life," 
and almost pnris natiiralibiis, well may Dante rise from the dead, and 
thunder in our ears, 

A time to come 
Stands full within my view. 
When from the pulpit shall be loudly warned. 
The unblushing dames of Florence, lest they bare 
Unkerchief'd bosoms to the common gaze. 
What savage women hath the world e'er seen, 
What Saracens, for whom there needed scourge. 
Of spiritual or other discipline, 

To force them walk with covering on their limbs. 
But did they see, the shameless ones, what heaven 
Wafts on swift wing toward them while I speak. 
Their mouths were oped for howling, they shall taste 
Of sorrow. See Purgatory, Canto 23d. 

What would Landino, Dante's commentator, say, in view of modern 
scenes, when he could say, "In those days, no less than in ours, the Floren- 
tine ladies exposed the neck and bosom, a dress no doubt more suitable 
to a harlot, than a matron." — See Note C. to this Canto. 

*Courier, Dec. 19. 

tDefence of Drama, p. 284. 

tFor some further home-made characteristics, see p. 27, of these dis- 


morals, and refine their manners." From such it "deserves sup- 
port," and is entitled to a "hberal patronage."] | From all 
such, *'the efiforts of the manager will entitle him to continued 
encouragement. "§ To all such it comes 

"To teach the young idea how to shoot. 
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind."** 

To all such, as it is necessary 

"To send them some where — any where to learn" 

we would say, 

"Try first the stage, — that boasted moral school. 
Where babes learn wisdom from a knave or fool ; 
Where virgin modesty is sent to take 
The art of blushing from a common rake ; 
Where polished ears, and minds of softer taste, 
Meet unotfended, words and looks unchaste ; 
Where hoary sires their children take, to view 
The mimic deeds, would hang them were they true, 
And make familiar to the untaught ear. 

Oaths, jests and ribald they should start to hear ; 

* ^ * * ^ 

I grant, if there your heart can find such blessing, 
Your morals greatly stand in need of dressing. 
If puppets, jugglers, Falstaff's are above ye. 
The stage's teaching may, perhaps, improve ye. 
'Tis time, indeed, you pushed your last endeavour, 
To save your virtue, ere it die forever." 

It will now be of interest to inquire, at what cost these 
instructions and this amusement will be secured to this commu- 
nity? Is this the most economical plan by which it may be 
indoctrinated in pure religion, refined morals, and polished 
manners? In answer to this inquiry, we must reply. There 
is the original cost of the building, and all the appurtenances ; 
there is the annual expenditure of something like a hundred 
thousand dollars ; there is the value of all the time consumed, 
not only while in the service of the theatre, but in preparing for 
it, and in repairing after it; there is all this amount of time, 
at its value during the pressure of the business season, when, 
to spend an evening in the family, or in the exercises of piety, 
is regarded as pure fanaticism ; there is the cost of all the 
dresses necessary to form that coup d'oeil which is the most 
luxurious part of the theatrical exhibition ; there is the price 
of all the refreshments, while there and after being there ; 
there are all the expenses incident to the diseases contracted 
in the persons of the attendants, or their servants, while there, 
or by their neglected families ; and there is all the loss to the 
community of the many valuable members yearly ruined by the 
theatre. The total sum, arising from the addition of all these, 

1 1 Courier, Dec. 18. 

§ Southern Patriot, Dec. 15. 

**Courier, Dec. 18. 


will give the price at which these lectures on manners and 
morality are purchased by the people of Charleston ! In truth, 
their cost cannot be estimated, for, to use the language of 
Burke, "there is much gaiety, and dissipation, and profusion, 
which must escape and disappoint all the arithmetic of political 
economy. These theatres are established, at a cost unknown 
till our days. The proprietors, who furnish out these gaudy 
and pompous entertainments must therefore collect so much 
more from the public."* "It is at this incalculable expense, we 
now behold, reared from its foundation among us, one of these 
huge piles, formed to prevent all amendment and remorse,"f 
and "lifting its broad shoulders in gigantic pride, almost emu- 
lous of the temples of God."t 

Will the necessity of recreation be pleaded, as "demanding the 
new theatre?" What! at such an expense of religion, manners 
and morals ; of time, men and money ; and at such an hour ; 
in such a season ; in such a place ; in such a dress ; to such a 
length of time ; under such excitement ; and in such company, — 
company which, if introduced to a ball room, or any other 
circle, would be repelled as the grossest and most ovitrageous 
insult? No, it cannot be. This were to suppose, "a greater 
degree of ignorance, or a larger portion of absurdity joined 
with a rancourous zeal to effect the object,"^ than we could 
possibly impute to the intelligent patrons of the theatre ; it were, 
in truth, using the elegant language of this same writer, to 
attribute to them "a miserable waste of precious time, and an 
enormous blasphemy against reason." || This were to find 
anmscmcnt in guilt itself, for is not attendance on the theatre, 
demonstrably a guilty practice? guilty, because it dissfpates 
the time and the mind ; opens the door to licentious imagina- 
tions ; wastes money that might be better appropriated ; encour- 
ages the use of wine and strong drink; banishes serious 
reflection ; promotes levity, folly and useless conversation ; 
indisposes to prayer and reading the Bible; incites infatuated 
youth to ridicule the ministers of religion and pious christians, 
and leads on the soul to perdition. 

Has Charleston, the Athens, the metropolitan city, the hope 
of the vSouth — and now, when she may stand in need of all her 
moral strength, and that invincible power, and indomitable 
courage, which are the allies of virtue; has Charleston, after 
one theatre has so signally failed within her, and when even in 
the most dissipated cities, theatres are becoming so disrepu- 
table, as to be receptacles for the vilest of their population; 

♦Burke's Works, vol. 8, p. 392, and 
tDitto, vol. 9, p. 119. 
tDefence of Drama, p. 170. 
1 1 Ditto, p. 280. 


has Charleston indeed given "an express invitation" of return 
to the leaders of the scenic art? Has this community, so far 
humbled itself, as to confess, that it is so sunk in "manners 
and morals ;" that its youth are so given to "haunts of dissipa- 
tion," that it has such a mass of population abandoned to "low 
and corrupting pleasures," as to find a theatre, in addition to 
all other similar haunts, "a necessary want?" Am I in the 
South — the land of noble, intellectual and chivalrous freemen ; 
the nurse of patriots and of statesmen ; the birth-place of 
genius, where the soul is lofty as its own heaven-daring pines ; 
where patriotism burns with an intensity, which, in more 
frozen climes would wither and consume ; where leisure, char- 
acter, the condition of society, every thing, calls away from 
what is gross and physical, to what is elevated and mental; 
and has there arisen, not one of the youth of this garden of 
the south, with the blush of enkindled shame upon his cheek, 
and the spirit of indignant resentment in his heart, to repel the 
charge, that, the theatre, the very synonyme of vice, is neces- 
sary to preserve him from "low and corrupting pleasures," in 
the "haunts of dissipation ?" Are there none to deny that it is 
for this purpose of "general convenience," and forms an hon- 
orable "epoch in our history?" Has it come to this, with one 
of the finest public libraries in the union, in one of the most 
convenient situations; with one of the most extensive muse- 
ums, oi natural history in progress ; with its literary and relig- 
ious journals ; with its numerous societies and associations ; its 
Academies of Art and Design; its Literary and Philosophical 
Society ; its Harmonic Society ; its facilities for the angler, the 
botanist, or the voyager; its battery, where, in its completed 
form, linked arm in arm, friendship may enjoy its sweetest 
pleasures, or philosophy revel in its loftiest musings; is it 
possible that with these and all her resources of social and 
domestic and relative happiness — not to name her manifold 
religious advantages — Charleston, nevertheless, requires the 
theatre for "the rational expenditure of idle time," "after a 
long drowth of rational amusement?" Be it so; but let it be 
said, that christians participated either in the sentence, or the 
merited condemnation. Not that christians esteem them- 
selves, in themselves, more worthy or meritorious in the sight 
of lieaven than others. Rather is it in the consciousness of 
their felt weakness, and in the knowledge of their suscepti- 
bility to the power of evil, they would "as far as in them lies," 
and looking ever for wisdom and grace from Him who giveth 
liberally, avoid "even the appearance of evil." 

"On the receipt of the news of the fall of Warsaw, there was 
a great sensation among the people of Paris. Among other 
instances of the ebullition of feeling, they 'entered the theatres. 


as in that of Nouveautes, Variete, and Italian, and compelled 
the actors to retire from the stage, and discontinue their per-' 
formances. Indeed, everywhere the theatres were closed. 
'Retire ! retire !' cried the celebrated Fontan, at the theatre des 
Nouveautes, 'and do not seek to amuse us with your follies, 
while our brethren in Poland are being massacred." 

"This is a noble thought, and shows a soul on lire at the 
sufferings of the unfortunate Patriots of Poland. No wonder, 
to such a mind, and in such a moment, the theatre appeared in 
all its absurdity. It was no time for men to be amusing others 
with their folly, when the sword was drinking the blood of the 
patriotic brave. We would not check such sympathy — it is 
above all praise. But we would extend the same commenda- 
tion to others. 'Retire! retire!' says the devoted christian to 
the actor on the stage, and do not seek to amuse men with your 
follies, while their own souls are struggling in the pangs of the 
second death. And the world who applauded the generous 
sympathy of the French philanthropist, mock at the sympathy 
of the christian for the souls of his nearest friends ! 

"The christian, with an expansive and disinterested benevo- 
lence, looks over the world. He sees a great moral combat 
raging. The dead are falling all around him. The Bible 
points ovit the chains of eternal servitude to sin, as the doom 
of those who die impenitent. To the stage-actor he exclaims, 
in the burning sympathy of his heart, 'Retire ! Retire ! and do 
not seek to amuse us with your follies while the adversary is 
leading souls captive to the dark prisons of endless despair.' 

"The christian hears the groans of the victims crushed 
beneath the ponderous car of Juggernaut, and of widows con- 
suming on the funeral piles of their husbands, and of children 
floating down the Ganges, just about to be devoured by the 
ravenous sharks, and the parents exposed to death in old age 
and in sickness, by their own offspring — and he exclaims to the 
actor, 'Retire ! Retire ! and do not seek to amuse us with your 
follies while these agonizing shrieks assail our ears ;' and the 
world laugh at the christian's commiseration, and jest at his 
sympathy, and call him fanatic for his attempt to relieve 
these wretched suft'erers, and a misanthrope because he will 
not be amused by the follies of the actor ; yes, and men laugh 
at him, and jest at him, and call him fanatic and misanthrope, 
who boast they are special lovers of humanity, and talk of their 
sensibilities, and even claim to believe the Gospel to be divine. 
'They think it strange that he will not run to the same excess 
of riot with them.' O ! the inconsistencies of the human 

But, to conclude. I will imagine this "new theatre," to have 
become old, — the tide of half a century to have rolled over this 

discourse; second, 347 

city, and to have carried all who are now its living tenants with 
it, into the dread unknown. I will imagine that crowning suc- 
cess has, year after year, filled with devoted followers, this 
temple of irreligion, vulgarity and immorality. How many 
thousands will have drunk in the inspiration of vice — been 
lured further and further from the ways of virtue, and plunged 
deeper in the haunts of dissipation, and of low and corrupting 
pleasures ! How many broken hearts will turn towards this 
theatre, as they weep over their buried joys ! How many 
shamed* parents will attribute to this theatre the disgrace of 
them and their children ! How many forlorn mothers will trace 
up to this fountain, the impure streams by which their daugh- 
ters have been poisoned to all virtue, and to all good ! 

Let all the members of this community, who, through the 
agency of this theatre, shall have suffered in their purse, or 
character, or happiness ; in their children or friends — be 
assembled together within it, in one dense and overcrowded 
audience. Let all their sighs become vocal, and all their 
groans audible. Let their tears flow out together, and com- 
mingle in one flood of sorrows. And let the lost spirits of the 
departed dead be permitted to revisit this scene of their earthly 
dissipation; and in those forms of woe, which the genius of a 
Dante could give them, let them be made visible to their bewail- 
ing friends. Let them pass by, in their dark and terrific fig- 
ures of unearthly torture, and in unison with the loud wail of 
their children, wives or parents, cry out, in the dismal tone 
of hopeless despair, "Lost! Lost! Lost! for ever! for ever! 
for ever! Lost! Lost! Lost!" That were a scene which 
would arouse you to a just perception of the character and 
magnitude of the evil we exhibit. That were a scene, yet still 
feeble in its representation of the still more awful reality. 

We look upon the Theatre as another Juggernaut, around 
which will fall, year by year, the crushed and famished victims 
of its vile idolatry, — whose bones, as they lie mouldering and 
whitening amid the foul vapours and gloomy shades of the 
deepening horror — will fill up the measure of its iniquity, and 
complete that desolation it has "such immeasurable power to 

N. B. To prevent the possibility of any false issue being 
made, as to the bearing of these discourses, the author would 
state, that it is barely possible, some of the statements made 
may not, in their fullest force, apply to the new theatre. 
Should such be proved to be the case with any, they may be 
deducted from the amount of the testimony given, but cannot 

*Prov. xvii., 2, "A son that causeth shame." 


certainly affect the general argument. Thus it is possible, that 
the allusion on page 16, though already publicly made without 
contradiction, may be true only to a limited extent; and that 
the noise of the workmen as heard by many, may have pro- 
ceeded from accidental causes, or have arisen from the suspi- 
cious imagination of the witnesses. If so, then the application 
of that part of the discourse must be made to theatres, where 
the arrangements of Saturday night, extend into sabbath morn- 
ing, or sabbath noon; where, if the community can be induced 
to sanction it, the theatre is open on sabbath evening itself, "to 
second the efforts of the pulpit;" where actors travel on the 
sabbath, to fulfil their appointments and save time, or spend 
the sabbath in their preparations — and to the new theatre as 
far as it sanctions any of these practices. 

The Relations of Christianity 
to War: 


The Portraiture of a Christian 









Citadel Academy, 26th Nov., 1846. 
Rev. and Dear Sir : 

At a special meeting of the Faculty of the Citadel Academy, I have been 
instructed to convey to you their most sincere thanks for the very learned, 
eloquent and appropriate discourse, which you were kind enough to deliver 
on Sunday last, before the officers. Professors and Cadets of that Institu- 
tion, and to solicit a copy for publication. 

I utter the sentiments of the whole Faculty when I urge this request, not 
only upon the ground of its literary and theological character, but because 
of the admirable portrait of the christian soldier which it so happily 
delineates. We earnestly desire that every Cadet in our Institution may 
have it near — a constant stimulus to exertion, inspiring noble sentiments. 
With profound respect, I am most truly your ob'dt. Serv't., 

F. W. CAPERS, Sect'y. Faculty. 


Charleston, Nov. 26th, 1846. 
Dear Sir : 

I sincerely rejoice that the Discourse I delivered at their request, last 
Sabbath morning, and which I had to prepare amid a great press of duty, 
was received with so much courtesj' and partial favour, by the Faculty of 
the Citadel Academy. 

For their kind expressions as communicated through you, I heartily 
thank them ; and as the same reasons which led me to feel the importance 
and necessity of discussing the subject of War, would make it my duty, 
when so desired, to express my views through the medium of the press, I 
cannot decline your request. I therefore cheerfully send you a copy for 
publication, and remain, with great respect for yourself and the other mem- 
bers of the Faculty, yours very sincerely, 


F. W. Capers, Esq., Secretary 

of the Citadel Academy Faculty. 

Matt, xxiv, 6. Jer. xlvii, 6. 7, 

"And ye shall hear of wars, and rumoitrs of wars, see that ye be not 
troubled : for all these things must come to pass, btit the end is not yet." 

"O thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet? Put up 
thyself into thy scabbard, rest, and be still. Hozv can it be quiet, 
seeing the Lord hath given it a charge against Ashkelon, and against 
the sea-shore? there hath he appointed it." 

My Christian Friends: 

In the first of these passages we are taught tliat war is inevi- 
table, not only as the result of the divine counsel, but also as 
a means in order to an ultimate end. Even "the wrath of man 
shall praise God," and wars further and accomplish His pur- 
poses until "the end" come. 

In the second passage we are instructed, that war is under 
the direction of Divine Providence, or as even Lowth interprets 
it, is "the result of God's irreversible purpose and decree," and 
His Sword, with which "He punishes the nations that forget 

They will therefore not unfitly introduce a discussion of the 
Relations of Christianity to War, — a discussion which we 
believe to be made necessary by the spirit of the times, and the 
increase of a wild enthusiastic philanthropy which attempts 
to be wiser and more merciful than God; to amend His ways; 
and to extirpate by methods of man's devising, evils which 
arise from the necessary derangement into which sin has 
plunged the world, and from the consequent condition of disci- 
pline in which we are now placed.* 

Let us then first endeavour to trace the source and origin of 

This earth of ours is now a scene of universal strife. 

This is true of the material world. Created originally for 
man, and in subordination of his sensitive, intellectual, and 
spiritual nature, it has "reflected the aspects and followed the 
fortunes" of that nature. When man, therefore, fell from his 
original condition of righteousness, the whole creation fell 
with him into a condition of gloom, and elemenral strife, so 
that with the war of passions, there ensued the war of elements. 
"The whole creation/' therefore, in all its departments and 
in all its operations, — (of which when first created "God said 
that it was all very good,") — now "groaneth, and travaileth in 
pain." The earth is in a state of disquietude, and ever and 

*I allude to that ultraism which is developed in abolition, anti-govern- 
ment, anti-punishment, anti-all-war, and similar societies. 

23— Vol. v. 


anon gives fearful indications of present discord and of future 

"Earth's days are numbered, nor remote her doom, 
As mortal, though less transient than, her sons." 

"The very air," — as has been strikingly said, seems to know 
it was never made to bear on its bosom the song of voluptu- 
ousness, or to be breathed in profaneness and blasphemy; and 
it testifies its sense of this abuse by the wild shrieks and 
bowlings of the tempest, and the desolation of the tornado. 
And not only so, but it collects within its bosom the artillery of 
heaven. It utters the low muttering and unfurls the banner 
of the coming storm. It piles the thunder-caps in its dazzling 
heights. It musters and urges on its thronging battalions. It 
covers the heavens with blackness ; it sheets them in flames ; 
it smites the earth with its bolts ; the peals of its thunder cease 
not, and it pours down its hail." 

So is it also with the fire, and the waters ; — for while we are 
dependent on both for our most necessary wants, we are visited 
by both with our most destructive calamities, and held by both 
in the most fearful apprehension and the most despotic sub- 

Hence the universal sentiment which has prevailed among 
mankind that not the natural and moral only, but also the 
physical creation is disordered. Hence the Ahriman of Persia, 
the Typhon of Egypt, the Demiurgus of the Gnostics, the 
essential evil of matter as believed in by Plato and other philos- 
ophers, and the universal application of words to the passions 
and aft'ection of the human breast which originally expressed 
the workings of material phenomena.* 

How this want of perfect harmony between the outward 
world and our outward and inward nature originated , we can- 
not tell. 

"Some say God bid his angel turn askance 
The poles of earth twice ten degrees or more 
From the sun's axle." 

But whatever may have been the physical source of these 
evils, their true origin was moral, and that origin was sin. 
" Oh yes! when, — as the great poet sings, — in consequence 
"of man's first disobedience," men 

" — sat them down to weep, nor only tears, 
Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within 
Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate. 
Mistrust, suspicion, discord ; and shook sore 
Their inward state of mind, calm region once 
And full of peace, now tost and turbulent," — 

then it was that the curse fell not only upon man, but also upon 
the earth, and upon those animals that were made subject to 

*"See President Hopkin's Convention sermon." 


vanity, not willingly, but by reason of Him who hath subjected 
the same in hope.f 

From this "distempered breast" proceed those "lusts that 
war in our members, "$ — the lust of dominion — the lust of 
wealth — the lust of vain glory — the lust of exaltation — and the 
lust of revenge. 

By these man is led to wage war with his brother-man. 
Seltishness, sensuality, and pride, — three monster passions — 
have seized possession of the human breast, and to a great 
extent turned man into a fiend, earth into a pandemonium, and 
life into a capacity of torture. History, therefore, is the 
record of wars and battles. Monuments and statues are the 
trophies of victories and the mementos of victors. And the 
scenes of great attraction and glory to tourists and readers 
are the fields of carnage. From these facts Hobbes was 
led to think that war was the state of Nature, and the end 
for which society was first formed ; while Machiavel also 
makes war "the one great study of princes, and peace only a 
breathing time which gives them leisure to contrive, and fur- 
nishes ability to execute military plans !" Sure it is that all we 
know of the most ancient kings is that they were great war- 
riors, that they led on great armies, and were instrumental — by 
battles, famine, and the other calamities of war, — to the 
destruction of vast multitudes of their fellow-men ;* and 
sure it is that ravaged countries, devastated cities, pillaged 
homes, desolated lands, and all the consequences of wild ambi- 
tion and ungovernable fury — constitute "the uniform of 

To the records of whatever age, nation or country we revert 

human lives are lavished every where 
As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves 
When the stript forest bows to the bleak air 
And groans — ■ 

And every where the shout 
Of battle, the barbaric yell, the bray 
Of dissonant instruments, the clang of arms, 
The shriek of agony, the groans of death 
In one wild uproar and continuous din 
Shake the still air. 

The result, therefore, has been that according to one calcula- 
tion, war has carried off nearly 1,000 millions, or at the rate 
1,715,000 per annum. § Burke, however, makes the amount 
of human beings destroyed by a few specified wars, to be 
36,000,000, and the number who have perished in the same 
miserable manner from the beginning of the world to this day 

tRom. viii. 20. 

t James iv. 1. 

*Burke's Works, on Natural Society, Vol. i., p. 17. 

§ Philips' Million of Facts, p. 864. 


at a thousand times as much, which he thinks "no exaggerated 
calculation. "$ No wonder then that earth has been called an 
Aceldema, ■ and that every spot has been supposed to be the 
grave-yard of some fallen generation. 

Is this then, we ask, the natural, that is, the native, original, 
and heaven-created character of society and of man? Was it 
so from the beginning? Were men sent forth from their Cre- 
ator's hands like beasts of prey to ravage and destroy? Was 
man created a malicious being, and was it designed that "man's 
inhumanity to man should make countless millions mourn ?" — 
Were earth's lovely vales, so suited to the shepherd's peaceful 
life, made to reverberate 

The death-shot hissing from afar 

The shock — the shout — the groan of war? 

Is it the glory of humanity to reign over desolated cities? 

To make a solitude, and call it peace ? 

to rush into blood; to seek the sack of villages and towns; to 
exult in the widow's wail, the virgin's shriek, the infant's 
trembling cry, and where cattle lately pastured, to see 

With carcasses and arms the ensanguined field 
Bestrewn ? 

Was such a final end of man's noble powers, his heroic prowess 
and his inimitable skill? "God forbid!" All nature cries 
aloud against the blasphemy of such a supposition. Reason 
forbids it. Every moral instinct and principle of our nature 
protests against it. Our knowledge of a better course, our 
loftier aspirations, our humanity, our philanthropy, — all con- 
demn it as alike dishonourable to God, and degrading to man. 
The universal belief found imbedded in every system of idol- 
atry, in every tongue and language, and among every tribe and 
people, of a pristine age of peace, purity and piety, forbid it. 
The equally universal belief that man's nature has suilered a 
sad and disastrous eclipse, and is now in a condition of degen- 
eracy and depravity, unites to swell the testimony against such 
a monstrous conclusion, and to vindicate the character and 
ways of God. 

Every faculty of our nature, — veneration, wonder, love, 
hope, fear, ideality, benevolence, conscientiousness, self-esteem, 
approbation, cautiousness, adhesiveness, the love of offspring, 
of kindred, and of man, — all, all, even according to the arrange- 
ment of physiologists, and of some Materialists, ought to lead 
man to a perfect love both of God and man, and deter him 
from such a guilty and unnatural course. 

And the present condition of all these faculties and powers 
of man, prove that they have been turned away from their 

tBurke's Works, Vol. i., p. 28. 


proper objects, and their proper modes of exercise, and that 
acting with misdirected and irregular energy, they necessarily 
lead to evil, and precipitate man from one degree of depravity 
to depths still greater. The higher sentiments are in subjec- 
tion to the lower propensities, and are evidently thrown from 
their balance. And this state of guilty depravity, to which 
consciousness attests, and against which conscience protests, is 
the foundation upon which are based all the teachings of edu- 
cation, the restraints of law, the terrors of punishment, and the 
proclamations of religion. 

We are, therefore, brought back to our original position, 
that "by sin came death," and all the mortal ills to which 
humanity is heir, and that it is "from the lusts" — begotten and 
engendered by this evil principle in the "deceitful and desper- 
ately wicked heart" — that "wars proceed." 

In every heart 
Are sown the sparks 

that kindle fiery war, 

So that 

Occasion needs but fan them, and they blaze. 

Is this then, we further ask, to remain the character of man, 
the condition of society, and the prospects of our race? Shall 
"the sword devour for ever?" Shall men for ever 

forget that they are men. 
And men that they are brethren, still delight 
In human sacrifice ? Still burst the ties 
Of nature that should knit their souls together 
In one soft band of amity and love? 
Still shall they breathe destruction ? 

Still be known 
Artificers of death ? 

Hope answers no ! Education, science, philosophy, art, elo- 
quence, poetry, music, every thing that purifies, pacifies, 
elevates and adorns ; all the courtesies, amenities and blandish- 
ments that give to society its sweetest tone, and its fairest 
colours ; the growing sentiment that "as God is one, so by the 
constitution of his intelligent creation, his human children 
ought to be united by stronger ties than those of consanguinity 
in all the oneness, and in all the afifection of a single family ;" 
these, and the interests of commerce, and the bonds of a com- 
mon literature, and the extending progress of a common lan- 
guage, all answer, no ! 

But this conclusion, which these reasons altogether could not 
suggest as probable, and urge as desirable — Revelation — which 
is at once the will and the power of God — teaches us is cer- 
tain. Sitting at the mouth of this oracle we hear glad sounds 
and cheering responses. "The sword will not devour for ever. 
Wars shall cease. Nation shall not lift sword against nation, 
neither shall they learn war any more. They shall beat their 


swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks. 
Peace shall extend itself like a river. The officers and rulers 
and magistrates of the world shall be peace, and of the increase 
of this peace there shall be no end, until great voices shall be 
heard in heaven saying, the kingdoms of the world have become 
the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall 
reign for ever and ever." 

And while revelation gives forth such joyful responses, it 
also provides the means for securing their accomplishment. It 
holds forth light, life, and immortality. Love and lenity, for- 
giveness and forbearance, amity and amenity, are the principles 
of that glorious gospel of the blessed God of which the angelic 
annunciation was "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
peace, good will towards men." Instructing men in their com- 
mon guilt, ruin and danger, the gospel will fill them with a 
sense of the infinite value of the human soul, the priceless esti- 
mate of salvation, the inconceivable horrors of damnation, and 
the everlasting blessedness of redemption ; and by subduing 
lust, vanity and pride, it will yet make every man the friend of 
every other man, wdiom he will love and honor, even as himself. 

All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail ; 
Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend 
And white-robed innocence from heaven descend, 
No sigh, no murmur the wide world shall hear. 
From every face she wipes off every tear. 
No more shall nation against nation rise 
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes 
No fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er 
And brazen trumpet kindle rage no more. 

And as alienation from God, banishment from His favour 
and presence, and the disruption of all intercourse with Him, 
was the cause of man's dreadful ruin, so his reconciliation to 
God and his restoration to God's favour and friendship, by 
furnishing his faculties with their true objects, and by directing 
his affections to the only source of true happiness, will elevate 
man to his original condition, and restore tJic world to its 
original blessedness. 

Look round our world ; behold the chain of love 
Combining all below and all above : 
See plastic nature working to this end 
The single atom each to other tend. 
Attract, attracted to, the next in place 
Formed and impelled its neighbor to embrace ; 
See matter next, with various life endued, 
Press to one centre still, the general good. 

This leads us then to inquire what are the relations of Chris- 
tianity to war ? 

Prospectively we have seen Christianity certifies its utter 
undoing. In principle, Christianity as surely wars against war, 
fights against all fighting, and destroys all destruction. Within 


its own borders and the circle of its own domain the gospel per- 
emptorily forbids strife, abjures contention, and requires for- 
giveness and pitiful compassion. Toward all others "who are 
without," the gospel looks with benignant eye, requiring its 
disciples "as far as lieth in them to live peaceably with all men 
and to do them good as they have opportunity." 

But does Christianity, therefore, condemn all war, denounce 
it, and hand over its abettors and instruments to the curse and 
woe of its endless destruction? Are the life, character, and 
duties of a soldier incompatible with Christianity, and do they 
necessarily excommunicate from all the hopes and blessings of 

On this subject there are diversities of opinion, and many 
who take the afifirmative in this all important question. Indeed 
so prevalent has this opinion become, that we do not know a 
modern discussion of the lawfulness of war in any case. 

Now we grant to such reasoners that war originates in 
"lusts" and is an evidence of human guilt and depravity. We 
grant that it is at once the natural effect, and the judicial punish- 
ment or siN^ and that "the sword of war is God's sword." 
But the same is true of many other things which have been 
made necessary in consequence of man's corruption. 

What, for instance, is government itself, but a direction and 
restraint exercised over the actions of man by those to whom 
authority is given to enforce the laws and execute the penalties 
necessary to secure to every man life, liberty, and the pursuit 
of happiness ? The very end aimed at by men in the formation 
of society, is the promotion of their mutual safety and advan- 
tage by the joint efforts of their combined strength. In doing 
so they yield to the common guardianship of the community, 
those rights, which in a state of independence they might prop- 
erly exercise alone, — so far as the direction of such aft'airs by 
the government is found necessary to the general safetv and 

To be able to act in concert and by rule ; — to have councils 
which shall be consistent and sustained ; — to repress violence 
and secure the enjoyment of life, health, prosperity, together 
with personal and social happiness — these are the objects aimed 
at in all governments. And every citizen finds it to be for his 
interest to give up his individual will in order to obtain a share 
in that general protection which such government aft'ords 
against individual violence and foreign aggression. 

It is evident, then, that government became necessary because 
of that depravity, selfishness, pride and ambition, which have 
made man the enemy and the prey of man ; — which led every 
man to appropriate to himself all attainable good, and in order 
to secure it, even to sacrifice the interests of others : — and 

860 A discourse;. 

which thus terminate in the doctrine that "might makes right.'' 
All, therefore, are agreed that government originated in evil, 
and is itself a necessary evil. It implies only a partial liberty, 
and involves an absolute coercive power of some sort and to 
a greater or less extent, whether that power is exercised by the 
people, by representation, by a single monarch, or by all com- 
bined. In every kind of government there must, therefore, be 
a legislative, executive, and judicial power which is supreme 
and absolute. But all this proves that the necessity which 
requires such provision for the administration or justice, for 
giving each man the protection of the laws, and for punishing 
offenders — is founded on that character of injustice, lawlessness 
and crime, which now attaches to mankind. 

Government, therefore, is an evil, and founded upon the 
existence of evil. It deprives men of some degree of liberty, 
lays taxes upon their property, and makes them subject to laws, 
and in case of their infraction of these laws, to severe penalties. 
And hence the merit of every government is tested, not by its 
absolute freedom, but by the amount of liberty it can permit, 
and the amount of property it can leave untaxed, while, at the 
same time, it secures to the people the best laws, the best 
administration of these laws, and the amplest security against 
all violence both at home and abroad. Even in our govern- 
ment, therefore, which is certainly the freest in the world, in 
addition to all the restraints upon natural liberty imposed by 
its laws, there is in our general representation, a real delegation 
of the deliberate authority of the people. Such, then, is gov- 
ernment. It is made necessary by human violence, and sus- 
tained, when necessary, by physical force. 

And yet we are instructed by the Bible that government is of 
God, for "there is no power but of God ; the powers that be 
are ordained of God, whosoever, therefore, resisteth the power 
resisteth the ordinance of God, and they that resist shall 
receive to themselves damnation." The apostle, be it observed, 
here speaks not of governors, but of government ; and not of 
the mode of administering government, but of civil government 
itself. This he declares to be an institute of God, founded on 
the nature of man, conformable to his reason, made necessary 
by his present ignorance, depravity and selfishness, and adapted 
to secure and promote the best interests of all. The mode of 
administering this government, however, is not of divine 
appointment, but is left to human reason, guided by the cir- 
cumstances and condition of every people. 

God having originally formed man for society, the guilt and 
misery consequent upon the fall have made government neces- 
sary for the peace and prosperity of that society. The superi- 
ority of some, and the subordination of others, are first prm- 


ciples established by the Creator, so that he who resisteth civil 
order, authority and government, "resisteth the ordinance of 

But further, our Saviour and his apostles teach us that civil 
government "is of this zvorld," that is, adapted to man's nature 
as it nozv is, designed to secure man's present and temporary 
interests, and to be ordered and directed by the wisdom of 
men, in accordance with the principles of justice and truth. 
The good of the people is, therefore, the sole object of all gov- 
ernment, but the true original of its authority is the will and 
purpose of God as manifested in our nature. We are, there- 
fore, required to acquiesce in it, and to allow and support it, 
"not only for wrath, but also for conscience sake," that is, not 
only because it is enforced by penal statutes, but from our 
religious principles, not only because we cannot help it but from 
a sense of duty, since conscience has respect to the will of God, 
however made known, and enforces that which is in itself oblig- 
atory and right. 

We are thus brought to the conclusion that government while 
it is originated and made necessary by sin, and while it is main- 
tained by force, is yet "an ordinance of God," and designed to 
"make the wrath of man to praise Him, and the remainder 
thereof to restrain," so that all who will may "live quiet and 
peaceable lives." 

And so is it with education, with family government, with 
every kind of discipline and control, with affliction and all the 
other ills to which flesh is heir, and which as they are all made 
necessary by sin, so are they all made to conspire to the subju- 
gation and mitigation of the evils of sin. Were man perfect, 
government would be perfect and leave man perfectly free, but 
as man is imperfect, government must be abstractly considered 
imperfect, in order to be, practically and relatively, useful and 

War, therefore, may be, as it is, founded in evil, and may be, 
as it is, in itself an evil, and yet may be, as it is, "an ordinance 
of God," consistent with His will, and permitted by Him in the 
present state of the world, for the ultimate accomplishment of 
the most wise and benevolent purposes. 

But, it may be said that while government is the ordinance of 
God, the particular form of its administration is left to the wis- 
dom of men guided by the general principles and spirit of God's 
will as made known by reason and revelation, and that as these 
condemn and exclude all employment of force, no government 
can lawfully engage in war. Now the premises in this argu- 
ment we grant, but the conclusion we deny. The particular 
form of social administration is left to man, as thus guided, but 


man. as thus guided, will not come to the conclusion that gov- 
ernment can be sustained without force. 

Self-defence is as much an ordinance of God as civil govern- 
ment.* Alan has been so constituted by His creator that he will, 
and must, and ought, to defend himself against injury, and 
employ every possible means, when they are made inevitably 
necessary, to preserve that life to which he is the guardian and 
which is to him of such priceless value. It is, fnerefore, the 
will of the Supreme being that man should defend himself. 
This principle is not, in itself considered, evil, nor does it neces- 
sarily imply that anger, hatred, malice, fury, revenge, and 
blood-thirstiness, to which, in consequence of our depravity, it 
has been made instrumental. On the contrary it may and wust 
exist in the holiest natures; and the necessity of employing it 
so as to injure or kill an assailant has been created only by that 
sin which has implanted rage and blood-thirsty revenge in the 
human heart. The sinful use and abuse of this principle there- 
fore, can no more be urged in proof of its sinfulness than the 
similar abuse of every other feeling, affection and faculty of 
our nature can be made to prove their sinfulness. Neither is 
this principle like the ferocious instincts of wild beasts, but one 
that is necessary to the well being and preservation of man. and 
under the guidance and control of higher principles. 

Hence it is admitted by a recent writer, who has in a great 
neasure defended the views of peace societies, that the right to 
defend one-self has been generally regarded as one of the clear- 
est natural rights. f But if it is founded on the original law of 
our nature, it must also, according to all sound writers, be 
founded on the written or revealed law, since both are identical 
as far as they go, (for of course Revelation makes known many 
things unknown to the teachings of reason or the promptings 
of nature,) the latter being thus far a republication of the law 
of our nature, a correct, authentic, and infallible copy.:|: 

It is true that this natural liberty of private redress was 
greatly abridged by the establishment of government and courts 
of justice ; and yet, even now, the laws permit citizens to resort 
to self-defence, in those, and only in those cases, where no legal 
redress exists, and where the danger is so imminent as to render 

*See Brown of Wamphray's Apologetical Relation. Sec. xi. p. 90 
recent ed. 

"Vim vi repellere," "Defensio vitje necessaria est et a jure naturali pro- 

tSee The Christian Examinor 1841, p. 169, where will be found numer- 
ous authorities. See also Grotius on War. Vol i. p. 54, 55; and p. Ill, 
112, 37, 80, 

JRom. ii, 14. Gen. xxv. Is, v. 3. Jer. ii, 6, Ezek, xviii. 25. Mich. vi. 
2. Rom, ii 6, and iii. 6, and Grotius, vol. i. p. 19 and 33 ; and Grotius, vol. 
i. p, 29, 62, 66, 


it impossible to wait for a legal remedy.f Such also was the 
law of the Jews4 And thus by the laws of all known and 
civilized nations, a person is judged innocent who kills another, 
while forcibly attempting or endangering his life.§ 

God works by means, and as he has made self-preservation 
our duty, it is by the use of the powers and faculties with 
which he has furnished us, we are to protect ourselves from 
detriment, and not by relying on any direct and special inter- 

It is, indeed, said that the use of physical force is ''doing evil 
that good may come." The use of physical force, however, is 
not necessarily evil, but in many cases really useful, and neces- 
sary. 1 1 The foundation of all society is the family, which is 
unquestionably God's ordinance, and yet a rod is put into the 
hands of every parent which "he is not to spare because of the 
crying" of his children, but to "beat them with a rod, and thus 
deliver their soul from hell." Outward calamities and physical 
ills constitute also the rod with which God scourges every son 
whom he receiveth. And when, therefore, physical force is 
employed as the means of arresting so great an evil as the loss 
of life, it is both good and proper. 

It is said, again, that we are absolutely commanded, not to 
kill,** but this is interpreted in another passage by "doing no 
murder," and taking life in self-defence, is not murder, nor is it 
at all analagous to the laws of retaliation, blood-revenge, duel- 
ling, and unnecessary murder for the mere gratification of 
passion and revenge, — which it was the object of our Savior in 
these and other precepts to forbid.ft And that our Lord and 
his apostles would never have resorted to self-defence in cases 
of absolute necessity, is not proved, since there is no occasion 
recorded when such force was called for. 

If then God prescribes to individuals and to nations the duty 
of self-preservation, and of advancing their own perfection and 
happiness, He must give them the right of preserving them- 
selves from every thing that might prevent or destroy these 
ends; since the right is nothing more than a moral power of 
doing what is proper and conformable to duty.$| And hence 
the law of nature and of God, authorizing self-defence, must 
also authorize w^ar.§§ 

tGrotius, vol. i. p. Ill ; and Christian Examiner as above. 

lExodus xxii. 2. 

§Grotius ibid, p. 116. 

I [Christian Examiner, p. 172; and New Englander, Oct. 1846, p. 577. 

**Mark x. 19. 

ttRom. xii. 19 ; and Christian Examiner 179. 

ttVattel's Law of Nations, B. ii. c. iv. and 49. 

§§Such was precisely the case with David, 1 Chron. 12, 22, 36 and v 218 
18, 21 :— of Elisha, 2 K. 6, 32 ; of the 80 priests, 2 Chr. 26, 17 ; of the people 
who received Jonathan, 1 Sam. xiv ; of Elijah, 2 K. i. ; of the city of Abel, 


But it is further true that it is in accordance with the law of 
nature and the law of revelation that governments should inflict 
the penalty of death, in the case at least of murder. It is just 
that a man should suffer according to the evil he has done.§ 
The necessity and the right of punishment is laid deep in the 
principles of our moral nature. The law of God, — the God of 
nature and of the Bible, — makes it right, just and imperative. 
Punishment is not founded in revenge, or cruelty, or expedi- 
ency ; nor does it aim at the benefit of the offender, except so 
far as that can be made to consist with its true and higher 
ends ; so that this, instead of being, as many suppose, the first, 
is in reality the last end of punishment. Punishment is the 
expression of the moral sense against crime. Its first object is 
to excite such an estimate of crime as to make it at once loath- 
some, infamous and dreadful. It would thus, by the pain and 
ignominy it inflicts, deter from the commission of crime, and 
by the "magnitude of the penalty proclaim the magnitude of the 
interests which law protects and natural justice makes inviola- 
ble.* "Both reason and revelation protest against those 
schemes of mock and eft'eminate philanthropy, which however 
"plausible, graceful, poetic, or rational" they may seem, "have 
a demoralizing influence upon society, and are nothing more 
than rose-water philanthropy," as Carlyle calls them, which 
would "undermine with tears, and blow away with sighs, the 
whole fabric of the moral universe." 

By denying to government the right of taking away life, such 
philanthropists would, at the same time, prove that society can- 
not inflict any manner of punishment, or infringe in in any 
degree upon that liberty which is, as truly as life, the gift of 
God and the inalienable right, and delegated trust, of man. 
Man has not the right to take away his own life, and of course 
he cannot give that right to others, but God has a right to take 
that life which He gave, when it is used for pvirposes contrary 
to His will, and this right we have seen God has delegated to 
civil government.f 

When these reasoners would awaken prejudice by calling 
such punishment "vindictive," besides retorting that this objec- 
tion would apply equally to all punishment and to all restraint, 
we answer, that this is a puerile play upon the double significa- 
tion of the word vindictive, which properly means vindicative. 

2 Sam. 20, 7 ; and the only passage brought against these refer to opposition 
to lawful governors (Eccl. 8, 2-4 Numb. xv. Rom. 13. 1 Pet. 2, 13, 14) or to 
inferior m.agistrates (1 Pet. 2, 14. Exod. 22, 28. Rom. 13. Job, 34. 18). 
See Brown Apol. Reb. p. 91. 

§Grotius vol. i. p. 60. 

*See very able articles in The Biblical Repository, 1843, p. 8 ; and N. 
Englander Oct. 1846, p. 570, &c. 

tSee Paley's Moral Phil, on Suicide, p. 265. Wks. vol. 3. 


Now in this sense all punishment and all moral sanctions are 
vindictive, inasmuch as they vindicate the right.J 

And while it is true that all vengeance is originally and by 
right, the prerogative of God, it is also, as we have seen, true 
that God has ordained civil government and invested it with 
this right. Individuals, therefore, are not to "avenge them- 
selves" but rather to "give place to wrath" by allowing God's 
justice in the administration of civil government to have an 
opportunity of asserting its authority and power. God has not 
only given to civil government authority, but "the sword" also 
to kill and to smite, that it may be "a terror to evil doers and a 
praise to them that do well." We are, therefore, to be "afraid 
of the power" for it "beareth not the sword in vain for it is the 
minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that 
doeth evil."* ■ 

When it is said that capital punishment is cruel and prevents 
the temporal and everlasting benefit of the culprit, it is for- 
gotten that if hardened and obdurate, he would only by longer 
life "treasure up fresh wrath against the day of wrath." while 
if penitent, he may, like the dying thief, seek and obtain par- 
don ; and at the same time that by his death the rights of society 
are vindicated, outrage is visited with even-handed retribution, 
the majesty of the law reverenced, and its voice obeyed, and no 
private considerations allowed to divert pviblic duty from its 
guardianship of the community. f 

Let this then suffice. Every argument employed in favour 
of the abrogation of capital punishment applies equally to all 
punishment and would lead ultimately to the dissolution of all 
society. § Sufifice it to know that as society originated not in 
any social or voluntary compact but in the ordinance of God. 
so was the penalty of death declared by God to be both neces- 
sary and right. "Who then is he that repliest against God ? Is 
God unrighteous that taketh vengeance, or is man more just or 
merciful than his Maker? 

It is, therefore, certain that the right and duty of inflicting 
capital punishment is imposed by God, who ordained it at the 
beginning. Now war is punishment. It is the highest exer- 
cise of judicial authority, enforced by executive powers, and 
the most solemn infliction of the "sword" which is given to civil 
government as a "terror to evil doers." It is punishment 
inflicted upon nations, and therefore requires to be executed by 

}N. Englander, p. .577. 

*Rom. xiii. 1-7. 

tBib. Reposit. p. 12. 

§See answered in N. Englander, p. .582 and in Grotius ; vol. i. p. 60-87. 
That these objections lead to such a conclusion is irresistably proven in that 
most admirable illustration of the rcductio ad absurdum, Burke's Natural 
History of Society. 


multitudes, who are however regularly enrolled, armed, mar- 
shalled and directed by the State. If therefore war is made 
necessary by criminal conduct, and executed by the proper 
authority, from proper motives, and under proper restraints, it 
is not contrary to, but consistent with, the word and will of 

Now for our consciences, the arms are fair, 
When the intent for bearing them is just. 

That this was the case under the whole Old Testament 
economy is not denied. Neither does the Old Testament sus- 
tain war by bare permission as it did some other evils, such as 
polygamy. On the contrary, War, as there represented, was 
made necessary by the arrangements of divine providence ;* — 
in certain cases it was expressly commanded ;t — in others it 
was the result of inspiration ;| — while victory was promised as 
coming from God, and given or withheld according to the good 
pleasure of His will.§ Abraham who had taken up arms with- 
out any special command, is commended and blessed, and the 
same is true of others also. 

Under the Judges the object of war was to assert their liberty 
by shaking off the yoke of powerful tyrants who kept them in 
subjection. Under Saul and David the same motives prevailed 
with the people to undertake war. Under the Alaccabees a 
handful of men opposed the whole power of the Kings of Syria, 
and against them maintained the religion of their fathers, and 
shook off the yoke of their oppressors. While therefore some 
of the Jewish wars were commanded, others were voluntary, 
and undertaken by the captains of the people to revenge some 
injuries offered to the nation, to punish some insults or 
offences, or to defend their allies, "and yet these wars are all 
sanctioned and approved." 1 1 

And while in the Old Testament the guilty nations are con- 
stantly forewarned by God of the consequence of every evil in 
their political and social conduct, neither capital punishment 
nor war are ever included among such denunciations.** 

The conduct of Abraham, to which we have referred, is justi- 
fied by Berosus and Orpheus, on the ground of the law of 
nature, which law, as we have seen, cannot be contrary to the 

*Job xix. 29. 1 Chron. 5, xxii. 2 Chr. xv. 6. Is. ix. 11. Is. xiii. 3, 5, &c. 

tGrotius i. p. 37. 

tjudg iii. 10, and 11, 29. 2 Chron. xxi. 16. Deut. xx. 4. &c. 

The amount of Bible instruction on War will be seen by reference to 
Talbots Analysis of the whole Bible, in which there are 60 pages of close 
double-columned quarto on War alone, and under 17 chapters, and numer- 
ous sub-divisions. 

§Gen. xiv. 20. Grotius, p. 50 and 52. Exod. 17. Heb. xi. 33, 34. 

1 1 Watson's Theol. Diet. p. 1009. 

**Grotius i. 66. 


law of Christ, which, while it may enlarge and extend, cannot 
oppose the law of nature which is equally from God '"" 

In the New Testament, as we have also seen, "the sword," — 
that is, the power of capital punishment and of war, — is 
expressly given by the ordinance of God to civil government. 
Civil government is to be the special object of our prayer s,t 
and in all its functions both of peace and war, when it aims at 
the "good" of the people it is to receive our honour, co-opera- 
tion and support. J Christians lived under the Jewish polity in 
Judea§ and under Sergius Paulus and Abgarus King of Edessa, 
who were, as far as we can learn, both received into the Church 
without any charge or change concerning this universal element 
in the civil constitutions of the world. || 

John the Baptist, as the forerunner of Christ, not only tacitly 
admits the propriety of the military profession but positively 
sanctions it, even while he preached the doctrine of repentance 
for the remission of sins,** and threatened with destruction 
those who did not produce fruits worthy of repentance. *f The 
same is true of the Apostles, by whom Cornelius the Centurion, 
and Sergius were unhesitatingly received into the church while 
both were under obligation to engage in war.ff And since war 
had ever been regarded as right and proper; — as it had ever 
been made necessary and a duty by the Jewish law ; — John the 
Baptist, Christ, and the Apostles would not have failed to lay 
down its inconsistency with the christian system were it really 
so, — especially as they were so bold and fearless in condemning 
whatever was wrong in the character, conduct, or policy of 
their converts, :|:f and in requiring them to relinquish their call- 
ings when unchristian and to abandon all evil practices. 

On the contrary Paul himself when the Jews lay in wait to 
seize and kill him, immediately gave information to the com- 
mander of the Roman garrison and proceeded from the city 
under the conduct of a guard of soldiers. The same apostle 
also acknowledges the propriety of the penalty of death, and his 
willingness to endure it.§§ 

It is, however, alleged that the opinion and conduct of the 
most primitive christians, is in contradiction to this interpreta- 

*Christ, therefore, does not abrogate the moral part of the Mosaic law. 
Eph. ii. 14. Phil. iv. 8. 1 Cor. xi. 13, 14. See Grotius I. 16, 19, 20, 25, 55, 
56, 26. 45, 50. And vol. II. 266, 270. 

tl Tim. ii. 1, 2, 3. 

tRom. xiii. 1-7. 

§Grotius i. 81 ; Matt. v. 17, and Acts xxiv. 3. 

1 1 Acts xiii. 12, and Euseb B. 1, c. 13 in Grotius i. 75. 

**Mark i. 4 ; Matt. xi. 12. 

*tMatt. iii. 8, 10 ; Luke iii. 2, and i. 77, and 2, 77. 

ttActs 10th. 

JtActs xix. 19 ; 2 Tim. iv. 2. This is one of those cases in which silence 
is proof. Grotius i. 79. 

§§Acts 25, and Peter ii. 19, 20. 


tion of the law of Christ, as it affects civil government and the 
right and duty of war. But on this subject there is a great 

Christ declared his kingdom not to be of this world, and that 
it is to be maintained, therefore, not by carnal weapons, but 
only by such as are spiritual. f But at the same time "Chris- 
tians," as Andrew Fuller says, are warned that the magistrate 
"beareth not the sword in vain ;" and that he is "the minister of 
God, a revenger, to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil." 
But if it be right for the magistrate to bear the sword, and to 
use it upon evil-doers within the realm, it cannot be wrong to 
use it in repelling invaders from without: and, if it be right on 
the part of the magistrate, it is right that the subject should 
assist him in it ; for, otherwise, his power would be merely 
nominal, and he would, indeed, "bear the sword in vain.:]: 

"The ground on which our Saviour refused to let his servants 
fight for Him," continues Fuller, was, that His was a kingdom 
"not of this world;" plainly intimating that, if his kingdom had 
been of this world, a contrary line of conduct had been proper. 
Now, this is what every other kingdom is ; it is right, therefore, 
according to our Lord's reasoning, that the subjects of all civil 
states should, as such, when required, fight in defence of 

Still, the ends aimed at by any war must be "good," and for 
the good of the people, and in consistency with the free tolera- 
tion of religion, otherwise no christian man can co-operate in 
supporting the civil power, but must either submit to the pen- 
alty of disobedience, or if assisted by a sufficient number, is 
under obligation to resist, and overthrow, and remodel the gov- 
ernment.** Civil government is, as we have shown, the ordi- 
nance of God ; but it is ordained not to be a "terror to good 
works, but to evil," and "a minister of God to us for good ;" 
and hence the same God who gives it authority and power, 
when made to conduce to these ends, as imperatively demands 
conscientious resistance when vice, misery and irreligion are the 
objects it supports. tt When civil government, therefore, be- 
trays its trust, by violating the rights of its citizens, then their 
duty of obedience ceases, and resistance becomes a duty.|t 

Now, this is just what the primitive christians did. Being 
required by an entrance into the army to take idolatrous and 

t2 Cor. X. 4. 

JFuller's Works, vol. iv. p. 125. 

^Fuller's Works, vol. iv. p. 125. 

**See Brougham's Political Philosophy, vol. i. chap. 1 and 2, and Dewar's 
Moral Philosophy, vol. ii. p. 576. 

T'tSee on Christian Submission by Rev. Robert Robinson of Cambridge, in 
Works vol. iii. p. 297, &c. And Brown on the Law of Christ concerning 
Civil Obedience. Lond. 1839, 3d ed. pp. 529. 

tJBrougham, p. 51, and 87. 


blasphemous oaths ; to fight against and murder christians ; and 
to uphold and establish idolatry; they refused, and rather than 
do this, suffered death. § "It is impossible, therefore," says 
Tertullian, "to reconcile the oath of fidelity to serve under the 
banners of Christ with that to serve under the banners of the 
Devil." 1 1 On this account some use language which has been 
intepreted as condemning all war. Many of the Fathers, how- 
ever, as Clemens Alexandrinus, and the work usually styled 
the Constitutions of Clemens Romanus, teach that "it is not 
killing that is considered unlawful, but only that of the inno- 
cent :"*t and they, together with Tertullian, plainly show that 
christians "engaged in the same wars with others when possi- 
ble."** Christians were also in the army of Marcus Aurelius, 
by whose prayers rain was believed to have been obtained. And 
many christian soldiers, who had suffered death for Christ's 
sake received the honor of Martyrdom of whom Cyprian says, 
"they too served in the armies of earthly princes. "ff For this 
purpose, says Augustine, "we pay tribute that the soldier may 
be provided with the necessaries of life."|$ And Ambrose 
says, "there is nothing wrong in bearing arms, but to bear arms 
from motives of rapine is a sin indeed."* 

The Bible, therefore, does not necessarily or absolutely con- 
demn war for purposes purely civil. On the contrary it 
requires courage as a virtue ;t even curses cowards who refuse 
to fight for their country ;$ and when the cause is just, and the 
war necessary, encourages us by the help of the Lord God of 
Hosts.§§ "Cursed be he," says God, when he had commis- 
sioned the Chaldeans to execute his vengeance, "who doeth the 
work of the Lord, deceitfully, and cursed be he that keepeth 
back his sword from blood. "*$ 

War then is honorable 

§Grotius i. 95. 

||Ib. p. 96. 

*tlb. p. 99. 

**Tertullian Apol. c. 43, and 37. 

ttGrotius i. 102. 

ftLib. 22. Contra Faustum c. 74. Grotius p. 86. 

*Do. p. 105. 

tSee Davies Sermon on courage, vol. 3, p. 379, 380. 

JDo. p. 426. 

§§Do. 389 and Ps. 137, 8 and p. 415. 

*JJer. 48, 10. See also Judges v. 23. 

On the lawfulness of War we may refer to Brown's Apologetical Relation, 
Rutherford's Lex. Rex., Jus Populi, Buchannan's De Jur Regni apud Scotos, 
Junius Brutus's Vindicx Contra Tyrannos, Prynne's Sovereign Power of 
Parliaments, and Trochrig's Comment on Ephes. p. 911-925. See also all 
the Legal Treatises. 

See also the 37th of the 39 articles of the Church of England, and Bev- 
eridge, and Burnet upon it. 

24 — Vol. v. 

370 A discourse;. 

In those who do their native rights maintain, 
In those whose swords an iron barrier are 
Between the lawless spoiler and the weak, 
But is in those who draw th' offensive blade 
For added power or gain, sordid and despicable 
As meanest office of the wordly churl. 

Christianity, however, as has been seen, while it permits war 
in cases of necessity, nevertheless by its doctrines, precepts, and 
influence provides for the ultimate and utter overthrow of war. 
This it does, however, not directly but indirectly; — not by 
national, but by individual reformation ; — not by the legislation 
of authority, but by moral suasion; — not by giving over the 
interests of society, and the welfare of all good men into the 
hands of the lawless, the violent and the impure, but by grad- 
ually transforming these very men into good, and virtuous, and 
peaceful members of the community. 

Christianity acts upon War just as it operates upon despot- 
ism, tyranny, injustice, misrule and every system of oppression, 
injustice, barbarity and ignorance. Just in proportion as it 
elevates nations in knowledge, science, education, and civilized 
refinement, it erects barriers against war. It thus employs com- 
merce, and every other auxiliary to render it more and more 
impracticable for kingdoms to go to war. And thus it is 
gradually maturing a "Law of nations," by which, without 
resort to force, all questions of international interest will be 
ultimately decided. 

By originating a Literature which will be common to all man- 
kind, Christianity will bind man to man in closer and more 
indissoluble ties. The magic speed with which intercourse will 
ere long be possible between the most distant portions of the 
earth, will still further assimilate the interests of all nations by 
the common advantage derived from peace. 

In this way it is becoming more and more apparent, that 
while in times past, war was not an unmitigated evil, but was 
made to conduce (as in the case of the Crusades and the vari- 
ous Northern and Roman invasions) to the advancement of 
Society and the ultimate benefit of the world ; that in hardly 
any conceivable case can it now be necessary or beneficial ; or 
the maintenance of any considerable standing army be politic 
or necessary. 

And when those ends for which God is expressly said to have 
"appointed the sword," and without the accomplishment of 
which "it cannot be quiet, seeing the Lord hath given it a 
charge," are fulfilled* — then, and not till then, shall "the Spirit 
be poured from on high" in such copious and effectual measure 
that "the work of righteousness shall be peace and the efifect of 
righteousness shall be quietness and assurance forever ;" — and 

*Eziek. xvi. 17 ; Jer. xlvii. 6, 7. 


then, and not till then, shall men ''walk in the Spirit" whose 
fruit is peace, and no longer "fulfil the lusts of the flesh," from 
whence come wars." 

In the mean time it is the duty of all men to conspire in has- 
tening on "this consummation so devoutly to be wished" by 
diffusing the glorious gospel of the blessed God, — by exemplify- 
ing its holy influences ; — by praying for the outpouring of the 
gracious Spirit ; — by using all their influence to prevent an 
appeal to arms when an appeal to reason can be made, or when 
the interests at stake can be given up, or compromised or other- 
wise arranged. 

And when war has been made inevitably necessary, and our 
country calls for the assistance of her citizens, Christianity 
would send them to her help not as savages but as civilized ; — 
not as wild beasts, but as men ; — not like "greyhounds in the 
slips," "straining upon the start," but like officers of Justice 
solemnly executing the unwelcome fiat of a nation's will; — not 
with "the gates of mercy all shut up" to "range with conscience 
wide as hell" and "imitate the action of the tiger ;" — but in the 
spirit of pity, clemency, and compassion, and with the sincere 
desire to attain the end with the least possible loss of time, men, 
and money, and without any unnecessary violation of the laws 
and institutions of God, or neglect of His word. His worship, 
or His will.* 

In the present condition of humanity, therefore, the profes- 
sion of the soldier must continue; and so long as it does con- 
tinue it must take a high and honorable position in society; 
since to it are entrusted the dearest interests of society, and 
upon it are devolved the greatest responsibilities and the most 

*Of this we may give the following illustration : "Let us pass from 
Achilles to Alexander, from Cesar to Bonaparte. These four men unite by 
the glory of arms ancient to modern times ; they are each an expression of 
their epoch, and they verify its progress. Human sacrifices on the tomb of 
Patroclus. Two thousand Syrians crucified on the sea-shore in the calm- 
ness of victory. Entire populations put to the sword, or sold by auction in 
the public squares, like a drove of beasts. Such were the scenes presented 
to mankind by Achilles, Alexander and Cesar. Let us now follow Bona- 
parte from Italy to Vienna, from Berlin to Moscow. What a change amidst 
this glorious butchery ! one laments for a friend, but one no longer kills 
men on his tomb ; they fight, but they no longer assassinate defenceless war- 
riors ; they take a town, but they no longer sell the inhabitants for slaves." 

"The generosity of the black prince in waiting personally upon the French 
monarch his captive — his humility in remaining uncovered and standing in 
his presence, — his moderation and self command in the moment of victory, 
his noble conduct to the royal prisoner, when presenting him amidst the 
shouts of his admiring countrymen, to his parents, is a striking illustration 
of the sublime in moral character, induced by the chastening influence of 
religious feelings, when compared with the chains and insult, the degrada- 
tion and scorn, with which illustrious prisoners were treated in ancient 

The law of nations says Burke (Wks., Vol. ii. p. 385) is built upon this 
principle, that war should be softened as much as possible, and that it 
should cease as soon as possible. 


self-sacrificing duties. It is therefore both wise and proper 
that provision shovild be made for the special education, and 
equipment of those who are to fill such a station ; and we must 
commend the wisdom and policy of our State in providing 
against any possible contingency, by preparing those who shall 
be found ready to meet war with honor to themselves and to 
their country; and who, by the very discipline and instruction 
they receive, shall be made (if, as we most hope, their service 
shall not be found necessary in war) the more useful and 
honorable, as peaceful members of the community. Let such 
then, my young and respected friends, be your ambition and 
desire. And were I asked to point out to you the elements of 
character necessary to constitute a truly noble soldier, and to 
which you should aspire, I would say that he should be a gentle- 
man, a patriot, and a christian. 

"Nothing," says Burke,* "is more certain than that our 
manners, our civilization, and all the good things which are 
connected with civilization, have, in this European world of 
ours, depended for ages upon two principles ; and were, indeed, 
the result of both combined ; I mean the spirit of a gentleman 
and the spirit of religion." These, however, are coincident, 
and not contradictory, since the christian only acts out the spirit 
of Christianity by being a gentleman, while the gentleman gains 
greatly by being a christian. Indeed, it is true that while a 
finished gentleman is the most uncommon of all the great char- 
acters in life, it is only piety which can impart the polish neces- 
sary to such a character. "It is," says Steele, "no very 
uncommon thing in the world to meet with men of probity ; 
there are, likewise, a great many men of honor to be found. 
Men of courage, men of sense, and men of letters, are frequent ; 
but a true, fine gentleman is what one seldom sees. He is 
properly a compound of the various good qualities that embel- 
lish mankind. As the great poet animates all the different 
parts of learning by the force of his genius, and irradiates all 
the compass of his knowledge by the lustre and brightness of 
his imagination ; so all the great and solid perfections of life 
appear in the finished gentleman with a beautiful gloss and 
varnish ; every thing he says or does is accompanied with a 
manner, or rather a charm, that draws the admiration and good 
will of every beholder." 

But where shall we find the portraiture, the principles and the 
life of such a character, except in the Bible. "The fruit of the 
Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, 
faith, meekness, temperance."t Christians are to adorn their 
character, and grace their conduct, with "whatsoever things are 

*Laconics i. p. 317. 
tGal. V. 22, 23. 


true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, 
whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, what- 
soever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if 
there be any praise." We are required to be "kindly afifectioned 
one to another, with brotherly love; in honor, preferring one 
another. If it be possible, as much as lieth in us, we are to live 
peaceably with all men." We are to "let all bitterness, and 
wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil-speaking be put away 
from us, with all malice, and to be kind one to another, tender- 
hearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ's sake, 
has forgiven us." 

We are to "let nothing be done through strife or vain glory; 
but in lowliness of mind, to let each esteem other better than 
themselves," and to "follow peace with all men, and holiness, 
without which no man shall see the Lord." 

And of this spirit and character the Bible not only furnishes 
the precept, but also the ensample. In Moses, in Abraham, in 
Samuel, in David, in Nehemiah, in Paul, and above all in the 
great exemplar — God manifest in the flesh, — we see this model 
"drawn out in living characters," and presented for our imita- 

Neither did such a character ever exist, except under the 
power of christian principle, which, even by its secondary ope- 
ration, transformed ferocity into courage, licentiousness into 
freedom, sense into sensibility, and lust into love, and by imbu- 
ing men's minds with urbanity, affability and mildness, and 
rubbing off all roughness, grossness and vulgarity, completed 
the stature, and perfected the symmetry of the gentleman. 
"The fear of the Lord is clean," and purifies the heart from 
every unclean practice, whether in our contracts, our engage- 
ments, our money transactions, our common intercourse, our 
manners, or our conversation. Christian faith elevates the soul 
above human opinion, — the fear, or frown, or favor of man, — 
and gives to the whole countenance an air of conscious free- 
dom, and calm serenity, a composure of manner, a quiet eye, a 
complacent self-satisfaction, a real independence, and a perfect 
peace ; in short, a natural and unaffected dignity. Like the 
blood which imparts living energy to every part of the system, 
christian principle runs through the whole conduct, and gives to 
the whole, consistency and beauty. True politeness, therefore, 
is reflected from the gospel, and to be perfectly enjoyed, must 
be received, not from that secondary reflection which comes 
from the lunar influences of the world, but directly from the 
sun of righteousness. The true fountain and well-spring of 
urbanity of manner, suavity of temper, kindliness of disposi- 
tion, and charity of heart, is Christianity, and the gospel is "the 
mirror before which the character must be dressed, to come 


forth to the world in the dignity of its appropriate adornment." 
"The whole composition is fundamentally christian ; the result 
of that formative grace which renovates the heart, and which, 
as a refiner's fire, or as fuller's soap, purges the thoughts and 
temper from the dross and scum of their gross adhesions." 

To this character of a gentleman add, my young friends, that 
of a patriot. The patriot is much more than a politician. He 
looks to the public, more than to private interests ; to general, 
more than to local claims ; to what is required by truth, reason, 
and justice, more than to the dictates of party. He regards 
political station, not as the road to profit or to power, but as a 
field of usefulness and duty. He knows no man or set of men 
except as they deserve, and merit his esteem, nor associates with 
any except when worthy ends are to be accomplished by proper 
means. He aims to sustain and perfect the edifice of public 
happiness and moral freedom. Truth, therefore, is with him 
of universal obligation. The welfare of the country is to him 
superior to all the interests of party ; and its moral and intellec- 
tual elevation of more importance than its external glory, or its 
physical prosperity. 

True patriotism, therefore, is, like true politeness, the off- 
spring of piety.* Love to God, and love to man, is the radical 
source, and the only source, of this noble affection, without 
which we will look in vain for any disinterested and constant 
regard for the welfare of others. The generous disinterested- 
ness, the incorruptible integrity, the undaunted firmness, the 
zealous concern for all that advances public good, which are 
the essential qualities of a patriot, are the genuine offspring of 
true religion. He only who acts in obedience to the authority 
of conscience and of God, will not shrink from these duties, 
because he only is raised above considerations of personal con- 
venience and hazard, while modern scepticism is barren of 
disinterested and public virtue, and fruitful only in vice, self- 
ishness, self-aggrandizement, and ambition. f The christian 
alone will be found steering his course amid all the sinuous 
windings of political expediency and factious jealousy, while 
"bright honor waits upon him, and preserves his very treadings, 
unstained by the soil of party." The advancement of knowl- 
edge, the security of free institutions, and the preservation and 

*Fenelon has said that one owes more to one's family, than to one's self, 
more to one's country than to one's family, and more to the human race 
than to one's country. This generous idea was for a long period only a 
christian maxim, but which in the soul of Montesquieu became the bond of 
the political world. "If I knew" said he, "any thing that would be useful 
to my country, and which was prejudicial to the human race, I should 
regard it as a crime." This is the manner in which superior minds under- 
stand the principle of rights. 

tSee Robert Hall's Sermon on Modern Infidelity, and Dewar's Moral 
Philos. vol. ii. p. 351. 


diffusion of true religion, — these are the great ends aimed at 
by the christian patriot, and by which he would not only exalt, 
but perpetuate, the glory of his nation. f 

"The Christian," therefore, "is the highest style of man," 
and in his complete development, includes in his character 
every other virtue. Would you, then, my young friends, attain 
to the glorious distinction of being known and read of all men 
as a gentleman and a patriot, "seek first the kingdom of God 
and his righteousness," and then "these things shall be added 
unto you." "Godliness is profitable to all things, having the 
promise of the life which now is, as well as of that which is to 
come;" and "the wisdom which cometh from above is able to 
instruct you, to reprove you, to correct you, and thoroughly to 
furnish you for every good work." "The righteous is better 
than his neighbour." Piety gives dignity to the character, ele- 
vation to the soul, and purity to the heart. The christian's 
thoughts are in heaven, and his treasure and affections there. 
"The fashions of the world are at his feet, as the mists at the 
base of Lebanon." He can bear to suffer wrong, but he cannot 
do wrong. He can forgive, but not retaliate an injury; and 
while he is kind, pitiful and compassionate to all, he despises 
none. He fears God, and has nothing else to fear. "He moves 
a king, and a priest, by divine right and celestial ordination," 
and feels that he enjoys in God's favor the highest honour, in 
God's service perfect freedom, and in God's glory his everlast- 
ing crown. 

Let this, then, be your first and great ambition. With all 
your getting, get the understanding of this wisdom, and become 
religious that you may become every thing that is good, wise 
and great. 

I rejoice that the whole spirit and tenor of your present 
course of discipline and instruction tends to this end, and that 
even since your entrance upon your course so many of you have 
enlisted under the banners of the Lord, become soldiers of 
Christ, and are now fighting the good fight of faith, and ready, 
under the leadings of the Captain of salvation, to do valiantly 
for His cause, and if needs be, for the cause of your country. 

You have noble examples, which I would commend you to 
follow. The study of the lives of Major General Burns, Colo- 
nel Blackader, Colonel Gardner, and others in the British, and 
American army* cannot but improve and elevate your minds 
and shew you how the christian can be blended with the war- 
rior, and piety adorn and dignify the character and life of a 
soldier. But above all these you have an example commended 

tGrotius, ii. 341. 

*See "The Church in the Army," "The Church in the Navy," published in 


to you by the admiration of the world, in our own Washington. 
On the day that he assumed the command of the American 
army at Cambridge, Washington read and caused to be sung 
the 101st Psalm, a portion of which we insert : 

If I am raised to bear the sword, 
I'll take my counsel from thy word ; 
Thy justice and thy heavenly grace 
Shall be the pattern of my ways. 

No sons of slander, rage and strife. 
Shall be companions of my life ; 
The haughty look, the heart of pride, 
Within my doors shall ne'er abide ; 

I'll search the land and raise the just 
To posts of honour, wealth, and trust ; 
The men that work thy holy will. 
Shall be my friends and favourites still. 

In vain shall sinners hope to rise 
By flattering or malicious lies ; 
Nor while the innocent I guard. 
Shall bold offenders e'er be spared. 

The impious crew, (that factious band,) 
Shall hide their heads or quit the land. 
And all that break the public rest, 
Where I have power, shall be suppressed.* 

Let this same inspired volume, then, be your pattern and your 
guide — let its doctrines and its holiness be implanted in your 
hearts, and you too will be prepared to glorify God, whether in 
peace or war, whether as a citizen or a soldier. 

You will thus rescue the military life from the stigma of 
being a "school of vice and infidelity," and save your own soul 
from everlasting perdition. You will thus become useful and 
honoured while alive, perpetuating in living examples the undy- 
ing eulogy of the immortal Burke when he said that "these 
people of the Southern colonies are much more strongly, and 
with an higher and more stubborn spirit, attached to liberty 
than those of the Northward" or "in any part of the world. "f 

*This fact was made known by the Rev. Mr. Waldo, an old revolutionary 
veteran from Connecticut, who attended the celebration at Westfield on the 
4th of July, and made himself quite interesting at the dinner table. He is 
now nearly ninety years old, but is in the vigour of a green old age, and was 
able to preach two sermons last Sabbath. 

In his remarks he referred to the allusion made by the orator to Wash- 
ington, and observed that he never heard even the name of that glorious 
chieftain and good man, "without feeling the cold chills through his whole 

He remarked that there was a single incident that came within his per- 
sonal knowledge, which he believed was not generally known. Having then 
stated the fact, the reverend worthy deacon read off to the company in true 
primitive style, a line at a time, which was sung to the tune of "Old Hun- 
dred," that tune being, as the old veteran said, "just the thing for it." 

tSpeech on conciliation with America. Wks. vol. 2, p. 54. He repre- 
sents our religion as "the dissidence of dissent, and the protestantism of the 
protestant religion" and "agreeing in nothing but in the communion of the 
spirit of liberty." How different were his views from those of Mr. Brown- 
son and his co-adjutors. 


And should you fall in the service of your country upon the 
field of battle, of you it will be said, as it was said by an ancient 
father, "O soldiers glorious in Christ, you too served in the 
armies of earthly princes, yet were you truly spiritual soldiers 
of God, defeating the wiles of the devil by a steady confession 
of the name of Christ, and earning the crowns and palms of the 

JSee in Grotius, vol. i. p. 96 and 102. 

The Principle of Secrecy 


Secret Societies 




Pastor of the Second Presbyterian Church 



Second Edition 


Art. I. — 1. The Constitution of Man, by George Combe — 
on Secretiveness. See Index. 

2. The Covenant and Official Organ of the Grand Lodge of 
the United States. Vol. I. 1842. p. 97, on "Tbe Secret 

3. Encyclopaedia Britannica. 7th Ed. Art. Mysteries. 

Our present object will be to discuss the principle of secrecy 
in its relations to man's moral and religious obligations. This 
inquiry is rendered necessary by the rapid extension and multi- 
plication of secret societies of every kind, and the efforts which 
have been made to justify them upon the ground of philosophy 
and religion. 

The love of secrecy it is said "is an element in the constitu- 
tion of mind" and "must therefore, in some mode or other, find 
its appropriate and lawful exercise."* "Secrecy is a virtue," 
says another, "a thing never yet denied. "f 

Now to begin with the beginning of our subject, we deny 
both of these axiomatic and fundamental data. Secrecy is 
neither an element of mind nor is it a virtue. Secrecy is a 
quality of an action, or a state and condition. It is a state of 
separation, concealment or of being hid from view.§ "It is," 
says Dr. Johnson, "a state of privacy, solitude, retirement. A 
thing set apart, removed, withdrawn out of sight or view, hid- 
den, concealed, is secret."** 

Now the love of such a state of isolated separation is not a 
part of man's nature. It is, on the contrary, opposed to that 
nature, and painful to it. "It is not good for man to be alone," 
and hence the social principle, developing itself in love and 
friendship, in the family and in society, is the chief and charac- 
teristic distinction of human nature. It is only "use," as 
Shakspeare says, that "doth breed the habit in any man." 

"The shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
To better brook, than flourishing peopled towns." 

This a man may do to "tune his distresses and record his 
woes," but the truth still remains, that 

"In solitude 
What happiness who can enjoy alone, 
Or if enjoying, what contentment find. "J 

*The Covenant, p. 97. tFreemason's Monitor. §Webster. 
**Richardson's Dictionary. $Milton. 


Nay, another great poet has said that solitude is but a slight 
relief from pain, and that 

"The vacant bosom's wilderness, 
Might thank the pang that made it less. 
E'en bliss 'twere wo alone to bear." 

Man is not then naturally disposed to be secret in any sense. 
He is on the contrary naturally social, free, open, unreserved, 
communicative and candid. These, beyond controversy, are 
the universal, unvaried, and proverbial qualities of natural and 
unsophisticated childhood. For a child to love solitude is un- 
natural, and to be secret and reserved impossible. An ability 
to endure retirement, to exercise reserve and to maintain 
secrecy, is a power which man attains with great difficulty, after 
long experience of the selfishness and evil of his fellow-men, — 
after much training and indoctrination, — and, after all, in a very 
feeble and imperfect degree. This is proven by the universal 
complaints respecting the faithlessness of men. Dr. Johnson 
doubted therefore whether the quality of retention be generally 
bestowed, and supposed that commonly secrets were unnatural 
and incapable of retention.* Chesterfield thought able men 
alone could exercise secrecy and that mystery was the only 
secrecy of weak and cunning ones, that is, of the great mass, 
and he advises therefore that neither fools, knaves, nor young 
men should be entrusted with them. The use of the word 
secrecy to express inviolate fidelity to any trust, is the very 
latest meaning to which it has been appropriated.f This use 
of the word is derivative, secondary, and figurative, and it indi- 
cates, not the primitive and natural condition of society, but 
that which is most advanced in civilization and philosophy. 

Secrecy therefore is not a virtue nor an element of mind and 
it is perfecty gratuitous to affirm that it is so. No philosopher 
or divine has ever laid down such a proposition. Until phre- 
nologists undertook to make out every state and exercise of the 
human mind, and to provide for them a "local habitation and a 
name" among the cerebral functions, in what system of mental 
or moral science, ancient or modern, is secrecy enrolled among 
the principles or the virtues of the mind? It cannot be: be- 
cause it is a state not an act — a means not an end. No man 
conceals himself for the mere purpose of being secret, but he is 
secret because he has a purpose in being so, to accomplish 
which this is necessary. The truth is, that as the quality of an 
action or a state of mind, secrecy is neither virtuous nor vicious. 
The principles on which it rests, and the motives by which it 
is maintained, give to secrecy the azure hue of virtue, the 
blackness of vice, or the perfectly colourless atmosphere of inde- 
terminate moral character. Mr. Combe manufactures a faculty 

*See Rambler, No. 13. tSee Johnson, &c., as above. 

the; principle of secrecy. 383 

of secretiyeness out of those of judgment, prudence and will, by 
which it is that a man is capable of self-restraint and of doing 
or not doing, speaking or not speaking, according to his view of 
duty and advantage. With him, however, the principle is 
supremely selfish,^ or has in it no moral character whatever. || 

The love of secrecy implies a state of moral evil, probation 
and defect. It is only here "we see in part and know in part," 
and that a veil is drawn around every human heart. It was not 
so in Paradise. It is not so in heaven, and it will not be so in 
the Paradise regained. The love of secrecy is in itself consid- 
ered, an evil and an imperfection. It is a necessity imposed by 
the introduction and prevalence of sin and all its viperous brood 
of selfish, unbrotherly and vindictive passions. It was only 
when man became by sin the enemy of man, that he became 
afraid of him and therefore reserved, cautious, and secret. In 
proportion as wickedness prevails men "love darkness rather 
than light," and wrap themselves around with the garment of 
concealment. Secrecy is therefore the shield of weakness, the 
refuge of the oppressed, the altar of the assailed, and the 
resistance of the enslaved. Where purity dwells it is unneces- 
sary. Where there is peace it is a stranger. Where there is 
mutual love and confidence, and honorable preference of each 
other it is needless. And in proportion as the heavenly spirit 
and principles of religion prevail, and peace, purity, integrity, 
generosity, disinterested benevolence, and philanthropy shall 
become personally and universally, the characteristics of man- 
kind, the existence and operation of secrecy will be limited to 
pure and benign purposes. We now hide much in our bosoms 
only because there is much which we ought to conceal, and dare 
not unveil. And secrecy is now a wide-spread principle in 
business, in politics, in arts and commerce, because it is found 
to be absolutely essential against the craft, the cunning, the 
circumvention and the unprincipled selfishness and rapacious- 
ness of human nature. 

The origin of secrecy as a quality of human conduct is there- 
fore truly, though suicidally, stated in the organ of the Odd 
Fellows, when it is said that "it was manifested in the bowers 
of Eden," where its undue operation, "brought death into the 
world and all our woes."* (See Gen. iii. 5, 6.) The Free- 
mason's Guide also traces this principle to the very beginning of 
time, and very curiously admits that the order certainly in- 
cluded Cain ; received its first name from the builders of P)abel, 

tAs "a moral sentiment" it is represented as aiming at the suppression of 
all that might injure us with others, and at getting hold of every secret by 
which v/e may increase our influence and power. But "in itself it does not 
in any respect desire the benefit of others." p. 62. 

1 1 "In reference to external objects it is the power of restraining the 
internal activities of our powers." p. 76. 

*The Covenant. 


and was zealously promoted by Nimrod or Belus in founding 
his empire.* The author, however, was certainly unphiloso- 
phical in assigning the origin of the order to God as the first 
"Grand Architect,"! since all his dealings were then open and 
unreserved, and since a grand architect had actually found his 
unnoticed way into the garden of Eden, and under the garb 
of secrecy had seduced our first parents into apostacy, and thus 
given origin to the principle and practice of secrecy. These 
writers cannot therefore be contradicted when they teach that 
from that time to this the love of secrecy has characterized 
fallen, guilty, fearful, artful, cunning, deceitful and wicked 
man, in all ages, in all countries, and under all forms of govern- 
ment and religion ; and for this reason, that these evils came by 
sin, and as all men have sinned, all are partakers of them. 

Secrecy is to the nature of man what darkness is to the 
natural world. It is a negation, a privation. It is the absence 
and inactivity of its regular functions and operations. It limits 
and restrains. Like darkness it is doubtless made conducive to 
good ends. It is adapted to cover up what, if left exposed, 
might prutify and breed corruption ; to allay and put to rest 
stormy winds of passion that might agitate and convulse: to 
disarm malice of its sting, envy of its hatred, jealousy of its 
revenge, wealth of its ostentation and poverty of its curse. It is 
to human nature what drapery is to a dilapidated room, or cos- 
tume to a very homely person. It veils what would disgust, 
and reveals only what may please. It hides deformity and 
exposes what is becoming. It covers the shame and the naked- 
ness of humanity, obscures what is "earthly, sensual and devil- 
ish" in our nature, and throws over our defects the mantle of 

To every man individually secrecy may be made a means 
of defence and of self-preservation. It enables us also to 
"make the worse appear the better," the bad tolerable, and the 
good attractive. We can thus think the kindlier of ourselves 
because we are esteemed by others. It is sometimes also a 
shield of defence. It parries many a hard thrust, and turns 
aside many a deadly weapon. By avoiding the occasion of 
offence, it prevents the thirst for revenge. But on the other 
hand secrecy is as potent for evil as it is for good. If it is pal- 
liative and protective it is not less pernicious. It puts the dag- 
ger into the assassin's hands, envelopes him in darkness, and 
thus gives him the opportunity of unerring aim and of unre- 
dressed wickedness. It enables a man to plot mischief upon 
his bed, to harbour traitorous and even murderous passions, to 
support within him all manner of evil purposes, and crafty, 
tricky, mean and overreaching plans, and to make his heart 

*The Freemason's Monitor, p. 17, 18. tDo. p. 17. 


like a den of thieves, or a cage of unclean birds, or like the 
house of those wicked spirits whose name is legion, and thus to 
appear outwardly as fair as the whited sepulchre, while all 
within is rottenness. 

To society at large, as to individuals, secrecy is available for 
much both of good and evil ; it is a wholesome check and pre- 
ventive of vice, and at the same time an incentive and patron 
of its utmost excess of riot. It gives to law and justice the 
hundred eyes of Argus, and yet puts into the hands of law- 
breakers the hundred hands of Briareus. It is the club of 
Hercules by whosoever hands it is wielded. Without it society 
could not be defended, and with it that society can be grievously 
wounded and bruised. It is, in short, a two-edged sword, pow- 
erful for evil as well as good. Thus is it evident as we have 
said, that secrecy has in itself no moral character, and is a state 
or condition which becomes virtuous or vicious according to the 
motive and end for which it is employed. 

From what we have said it may be inferred that the proper 
field for the exercise of secrecy is where the true and rightful 
interests of man, individually and socially, are involved. As it 
regards man individually it may be remarked that what is not 
necessary to be revealed for the good of others and what may 
prove injurious to ourselves, we ought to leave in undisturbed 
secrecy. What the good of others however demands we ought 
not to conceal from them. This is the only limit to personal 
secrecy, the law of truth, honour, probity, justice, and humanity. 
But it is, we apprehend, different in society. Society is consti- 
tuted with a reference to the common good of each other and of 
all. It is one body of which there are many members, and in 
which the common health and vigour is maintained by that 
which every limb and joint and muscle supplieth. If any mem- 
ber of the body is necessary to perform requisite, but at the 
same time private and homely offices, it is on that very account 
uncomely and shameful. Secrecy in the conduct of social 
affairs is a necessity not a choice, an indispensable instrument 
but not an ornament, like the drains of a city which are covered 
from public view. No part of the social body is designedly, and 
for its own sake, secret. Secrecy is the exception to the rule, 
"a needs be" — which the moral maladies of the body to some 
extent renders unavoidable. It is only lawful and proper, there- 
fore, where it is a means to the one end of all society, that is, to 
the common good of all. The propriety of secrecy in a com- 
munity "hath this extent, no more." Beyond this, it is the 
badge of despotism and of inquisitorial power. And hence 
secrecy may be regarded as no bad standard of the character of 
any government. In arbitrary governmicnts it is the rule, but 
in free countries it is the exception and the last resort of pru- 

25— Vol. v. 


dential necessity. In a free republic like ours everything is and 
ought to be open, public, and revealed. All participate in the 
government ; all share equally in its benefits and its burdens ; are 
labourers in the common vineyard ; and all are under obligations 
to devote themselves to the common interests of the whole body. 
Local, sectional, and party association for the special benefit of 
some to the neglect of others and under the covering of secrecy, 
is contrary to the genius of our constitution, to the spirit of our 
laws, and to the etherial temper of our institutions. It is with- 
out excuse, unnecessary, and injurious. There is but one 
"order" in a republic — one "fraternity." "All we are brethren." 
Our equality of right relates not merely to person, to property, 
and to the pursuit of happiness, but also to the right of knowing 
the truth as it regards the nature, rules, and order of every 
society amongst us. This right, if not jural, is moral. It is 
necessary to that fraternity, and equality, and to that confidence, 
trust, and heartfelt sympathy, which are essential to the good 
will and harmony of the social family. While therefore it may 
be legal it is certainly not morally expedient or desirable that 
any part of the social family, dwelling in the same homestead, 
and having common interests at stake, should separate them- 
selves for their own benefit, and under a veil of absolute secrecy 
"hide themselves from their own flesh," their own kindred. 

It is very certain that as what is allowable in one party is 
allowable in all, and what is proper for one purpose is equally 
so for others, that in this way the social family may be divided 
into cliques, each occupying a separate chamber, and pursuing 
separate ends for selfish advantages, under rules of absolute 
and complete seclusion. And how, we ask, could a family thus 
separated by secret vows, for private benefit and pleasure, live 
in peace, harmony and happiness, and how could a kingdom 
thus torn and divided within itself possibly endure? 

But secrecy is not less injurious to friendship than it is to 
social equality and fraternity. Cicero long ago remarked that 
secrecy is the ruin of friendship, and an effectual barrier to its 
foundation. And as in a family there should exist the most 
tender friendship, there must also exist the most perfect free- 
dom. Secrecy openly avowed would at once erect a wall of 
separation, and thus chill and freeze the warm current of 
mutual affection. And so it is in the social as well as in the 
domestic family. Here all are friends and secrecy is a crime 
against humanity and the very life of all society. 

But secrecy is a still greater violation of the rights of love. 
For if friendship thus knits society into one body, how much 
more does love identify the interests of those who are its 
objects. The very bond of such an union is a community of 
interest, of happiness and of purpose. The manifest good of 

the; principle of secrecy. 387 

others, can alone warrant an infringement of this covenant. 
The creation therefore of conventional associations which exalt 
their claims above this supremacy of love, and without absolute 
and imperative necessity, erect between its objects, an open and 
avowed wall of separation and of secrecy, is, we apprehend a 
serious, a fatal, and an unjustifiable interference with the claims 
of true and whole-hearted love ; with the duties of man and the 
rights of woman; with all the sanctity of that holy relation 
which requires a man to "leave father and mother and cleave 
unto his wife," and which "out of twain makes them one flesh." 
The authority of God and the real interests of others which 
might be jeoparded by disclosure will even in such a case 
undoubtedly justify and even require the withholdment of cer- 
tain facts; but nothing can justify the subjection of that heart 
which has been given in covenant devotion and in supreme and 
entire appropriation to a heart equally and entirey consecrated 
to it, to the usurped dominion of a self constituted society. 

Secrecy is not therefore a virtue, or in itself considered, 
proper and commendable. If the object aimed at in any social 
combination is praiseworthy then the veil of secrecy is unneces- 
sary, and if that end is evil or liable to corruption then it is 
criminal.* "We should never," says Cicero,t "do any thing 
out of the hope or expectation of secrecy." "There is," he says, 
"such a thing as a mutual relation and society among all men." 
. . . "It is true not to tell a thing, is not properly to conceal 
it; but not to tell that, which people are concerned to know, 
merely for the sake of some advantage to yourself, I think is : 
and there is nobody but knows what concealing this is, and 
who they are that make a custom of it: I am sure not your 
plain, sincere, ingenuous, honest, and good sort of people; but 
rather your shifting, sly, cunning, deceitful, roguish, crafty, 
foxish, juggling kind of fellows. And must it not necessarily 
be unprofitable for any man to lie under this, and a much longer 
catalogue, of such black and most odious names of vices ?" 

Secrecy instead of being in itself a virtue is we contend bur- 
densome and a temptation both to the giver and the receiver; 
both to the holder and to the recipient. It subjects them to 
many dangerous equivocations. It cultivates a Jesuitical double- 
dealing with the truth. It cherishes the positive wrong of deny- 
ing to another his moral right to know the truth. It accustoms 
a man to convey a false impression, and thus to violate the 
principle of truth without openly lying. It teaches a man how 
to use language which conveys one meaning to the hearer while 
he attributes to it another. It gives to a private and conven- 
tional society the authority and power to limit, qualify and 

*See Wollaston's Religion of Nature, p. 265. 
tDe officiis, B III., ch. 8 to 13. 

388 the; principle; of secrecy. 

restrain promises made previously, made absolutely, made to 
God and to man. It justifies open or implied falsehood, false- 
hood by direct misstatement or falsehood by equivocation, and 
all this in order to preserve a conventional secrecy ; and thus it 
habituates a man to do evil that good may come, and to tarnish 
his soul with a moral stain at the expense of sacred truth and 
inviolable love and friendship.:]: 

Secrecy therefore where it is not made imperative for the 
good of others, or for our own benefit, and where the interests 
of others are not at stake, is at war with the very principles of 
society; is destructive of the equality, fraternity and social 
rights of a free republic, is suicidal to the claims of friendship, 
and of love ; and is seriously detrimental to the moral character 
of those who are under its yoke. Absolute and unqualified, and 
unconditional secrecy is in its very nature and under all circum- 
stances immoral, unchristian, anti-social and subversive of every 
interest of truth, of justice, and of righteousness.* "The love 
of our country," says Cicero, "must swallow up all other loves 
whatever,"f and no vow or promise or oath or secrecy can jus- 
tify the withholdment of that which the interests of truth, or 
justice, or common good require to be made known. | This 
right of society is acknowledged and not denied. "It is," says 
Mr. Porter,§ "a right of self-protection, a right inherent in all 
society to know the principles and aims of any association which 
may be organized in its midst." But where the whole interior, 
economy, order and proceedings of such a society are veiled 
under inviolable secrecy, this right is manifestly denied. The 
secret doings may for aught the public can tell, contravene all 
published statements, and in many, very many, cases have done 
so. The character of any society is determined not by its rules 
but by its members, and hence the noblest ends under the wisest 
constitutions may be and often have been, employed as the 
cover for the most immoral, injurious and iniquitous proceed- 
ings. But of secret societies, it is our intention to speak in 
another article. 

tSee Whevvell's Morals, Vol. I., p. 222, 272, 280-282, and Bp. Hall's Wks., 
vol. 6, p. 32, Johnson's Rambler, No. 13. 
*See Baxter's Wks., vol. 6, p. 418. 
tOffices, B. i., ch. 17. JBaxter. vol. 6, p. 413. 
iOration before the Order of O. F., Charleston, 1844, p. 21. 


Art. II — 1. The Freemason's Monitor. 

2. Encyclopedia Britannica. Ed. 7th. Art. Mysteries. 

3. The Secret Societies of the Middle Ages. London: Charles 
Knight. 1837. 

4. Opinions on Speculative Free Masonry, relative to its origin, 
nature, and tendency, &c. By James C. Osborne. Boston. 

5. Secret Societies. A discourse by T. Blanchard. Cincinnati. 

6. /. O. O. F., Constitutions, Bye Laws, and Rules of Order; 
to zvJiich is added a Digest of the Laws of the Order. 

Charleston, S. C. 1847. 

7. An Oration Delivered before the Independent Order of Odd 
Fellows. By W. D. Porter, N. G., Charleston, 1844. 

8. M. W. Grand Sire's Report. 1847. 

9. Resolutions and Reports of the Consociation of Fairfield, 
West Connecticut; — The Presbytery of New York; — Salem 
Presbytery, Mi.; — Presbytery of Ithica; — Synod of Cincin- 
nati, &c., against Secret Societies. 

In a former article we have considered the principles of 
secrecy in its relation to man's moral and religious obligations, 
and have endeavored to prove, that the use made of it by the 
various Secret Societies, now multiplying among us, can be 
justified neither upon the ground of philosophy nor religion, but 
is on the contrary, repudiated and condemned by both. 

We now proceed, according to promise, to confirm our gen- 
eral argument against Secret Societies, by an examination into 
their history and results, by an exhibition of their contrariety to 
all the precepts, practices, and teachings of true religion, — and 
by a faithful exposure of their fatally dangerous character, con- 
sidered as substitutes for practical Christianity. 

We allude not to any recently established order. W^e are 
debating principles, and we appeal to all experience. Let us 
trace, then, the history of secret societies. 

Secret Societies originated in the corruptions of the human 
heart, and through it of true religion. The religion of the Bible 
is essentially simple, intelligible, and free from all secrecy. It 
is designed for all, adapted to all, addressed to all, level to the 
capacities of all, and open to the examination, the experiment 
and the enjoyment of all. Like the atmosphere, it is in its 

390 secri;t societies. 

nature, and in the nature of its mysterious and incomprehensi- 
ble objects, beyond our reach of knowledge. But in all its 
revelations about these infinite realities ; in all its operations 
consequent upon them, and in all its requirements and pre- 
scribed rules, it is plain, perspicuous and comprehensible. It 
was so in its original promulgation. The promise of a Re- 
deemer — salvation through Him — faith in his name — the wor- 
ship of God by sacrifice and prayer — these were the few and 
simple elements of antedeluvian religion. Man's corruption 
then manifested itself in infidelity and not in idolatry, and we 
read therefore of nothing like an attempt to mystify or secrete 
the dogmas or the duties of religion. 

This state of things continued till after the dispersion, and 
men began to establish empires. The priesthood was then in the 
hands of the patriarch, prince, or king, and was thus identified 
with the power of the state. Avarice arid ambition, therefore, 
soon suggested the introduction of articles, rites, and usages 
which might make religion more powerful as an engine of state, 
and a means of overawing, prostrating, and taxing the people. 
Hence came the secret societies of Egypt, in which the primitive 
traditions were gradually incrusted over with pageantry and 
form, and rendered more imposing by darkness, by secrecy, by 
forms of initiation, and by the most terrible sanctions.* From 
Egypt these secret societies, or mysteries, were carried to 
Greece where they were universally adopted, under the patron- 
age and control of the great, and became wonderfully powerful. 
Similar societies were established, for similar purposes, in 
Chaldea, Phoenicia, Persia, and in the Roman Empire. 

All these associations, however otherwise peculiar, were alike 
in professing to inculcate true religion and pure morality ; — in 
professedly requiring good character and good family as quali- 
fications for admission; — in having initiatory rites of disciple- 
ship, which were often of the most severe and terrible charac- 
ter ; in holding up to special reverence some God or Gods ; in 
excluding, by necessity, multitudes around them ; in having 
their oaths of secrecy, and in performing their religious rites 
in secret places, and by night or in darkness ; in having pro- 
gressive stages of initiation and advancement ; in requiring fees 
of admission and of frequent assessment ; and in promising 
amply remunerative benefits. These benefits, as Dr. Anthon 
states them, were "security against the vicissitudes of fortune, 
and protection from danger both in this life and in the life to 
come.""!" All these associations had also the same political 
efifect — the concentration of power, the subjugation and 
enslavement of the people, whose respect, admiration, reverence, 
and awe they every where secured by means of superstition and 

*Encyp. Brit., p. 658. Vol. xv. tDictionary of Antiquities, p. 652. 


terror. All offences against the mysteries were under the juris- 
diction of the chief mag-istrate, and a court consisting only of 
the initiated. Even in the ordinary courts this was the case, 
and none but the initiated were permitted to come within hear- 
ing of any cases involving their interests. $ 

It is finally true of all these institutions, that whatever m.ay 
have been their original character, they became gradually cor- 
rupted in membership, in motives, in manners, and in morals. 
With wealth and power, came pride, carnality, riot, and indulg- 
ence, until at length they pandered to the vilest licentiousness, 
and catered to the most beastly appetites, so that even women 
carried in possession the pudenda of both sexes ; heard in the 
presence of all, lectures upon their nature and use; and, 
phrenzied with intoxication, were ready to tear to pieces the 
daring man who would interfere with their enormities and 
attempt their reformation, even though he was the son or 
nephew of the murderers.* 

Judaism had no mysteries, in the proper and present mean- 
ing of the term. The term mystery does not properly signify 
that which by its very nature is above our comprehension, but 
that which is purposely hidden and kept back from the under- 
standing and knowledge of man. The plain and simple truths 
of religion however were taught to all and not to a few, and 
that all might learn them, all were required to participate in the 
ceremonies and sacrifices by which these truths were more im- 
pressively enforced, and to submit to the clearer instruction of 
Levites, of prophets, of the written word, and of the synagogue 
services. Its holy places, and things and persons, were not 
secret but sacred, not unknown but reverenced, not concealed 
from knowledge but from profanation. Character and fitness — 
by preparation and knowledge — were the only limits to men 
of all nations enjoying the amplest privileges in the Jewish 
church. "The Jews were therefore positively forbidden," says 
Milman, "to be initiated into the mysteries." In the Greek text 
of the Septuagint in Deut. xxiii. 17, a passage was either 
interpolated or so translated as to condemn all secret associa- 
tions as peculiar to paganism, and forbidden to the followers of 
the true God and the true religion. f 

Notwithstanding all this, however, an attempt has been made 
to sustain the principle of secret societies by an appeal to the 
scriptures. But this appearance of support is only secured by 
confounding what the Bible says of perfidiousness and false- 
hood, and against talebearing, and treachery, with the inculca- 

tSee Anthon as above. 

*Encyp. Brit. Vol. xv. p. 666. Milman's Hist. Christianity, Vol. i. p. 33. 

tSee this urged by Pritchard in his Analysis of Egyptian Mythology 

p. 415. ' 


tion of secrecy as in itself a motive or a duty4 The Bible, 
assuredly, inculcates foresight, prudence, and discretion. It 
undoubtedly requires us to conceal what by its publication can 
only do injury and no good. It most surely enjoins honour 
and truth and sincerity between man and man. It does unques- 
tionably represent the Deity as being incomprehensible in His 
nature and His ways. But it reveals God to us just to the 
utmost extent we require in order to know and to do our duty 
to Him, and it reveals this not in secrecy or reserve, but on the 
pages of inspiration and in the pulpits of the church, to all men. 
The Bible, therefore, nowhere authorizes secrecy except where 
the benefit of society demands it. As it regards the privileges 
and doctrines of the Bible, it condemns and anathematizes their 
concealment, and commands and requires their free and uni- 
versal inculcation at all times and to all nations. As it regards 
Christianity, it is pre-eminently the dispensation of light — of 
free open and universal privileges. Its author is Himself a 
revelation of the inscrutable Deity — "God manifest in the 
flesh" — and disrobed of his darkness. Its doctrines are pro- 
pounded to all. Its duties are enjoined upon all. Its blessings 
are offered to all. Its worship is open to all. Its privileges are 
conferred on all recipients. And even its ecclesiastical govern- 
ment is openly and fully submitted to the examination, inspec- 
tion and judgment of all, and limited, in any case, only by the 
good of all. 

Christ "went about" on his errand of mercy, and in secret, 
as He testifies, He said and did nothing. All barriers of age 
and sex and of condition were removed. Forms and ceremonies 
were almost entirely abolished. Instruction took the place of 
pageantry, and light of darkness. Christianity is therefore to 
be proclaimed to all, even to children. There was nothing 
covered but what Christ revealed, nothing hidden that he has 
not made known. What he told in darkness suited to the para- 
bolic taste of the times, "That, says he, speak ye in light, and 
what ye hear in the ear that preach ye upon the house tops." 
(Matt. X. 27, and Luke xii. 3.) Christians are light, not con- 
cealment, the children of the day and not of the night. They 
are to have nothing to do with the unfruitful works of darkness 
and are expressly warned against what is believed to have been 
the secret and voluntary associations of the Essenes and others, 
in the Epistles to the Collossians. (ii. 4-18.) 

There was nothing in apostolic Christianity approximating to 
secrecy.* On the contrary, it denounced and deprecated the 
coming of this spirit which it foretold as "the mystery of 
iniquity," the "Mystic Babylon" whose secrecy, and vows, and 

JSee Freemason's Monitor, p. 59, and The Covenant, p. 97. 
*See Coleman's Christian Antiquities, p. 35. 


orders, and lying wonders, and delusions, should corrupt and 
heathenize Christianity. 

And we may go still further, and affirm that there were no 
secrets, no mysteries, no hidden rites or associations known to 
Christianity for generations after the time of the apostles. This 
fact is proved by Bingham, the learned High-church Anti- 
quarian, who supports his conclusions by the testimony even of 
learned Romanists.* About the time of Tertullian — that is 
early in the third century,! when the pagan mysteries "the last 
hopes of the ancient religion," as Milman calls them,^ were 
losing ground. Christians endeavored to hasten their destruc- 
tion by adopting their principles and adapting Christianity to 
the tastes, habits and opinions of the times. The sacraments, 
ordinations, and other services were therefore for this purpose 
administered in private, and as in every other case where 
worldly wisdom has accommodated truth to human predilec- 
tions, corruptions and degeneracy fast progressed until as 
secrecy prevailed and the darkness settled down, Christendom 
became as full of secret associations, both religious and secular, 
lay and priestly, as ever Pagandom was.§ Christianity could 
then boast mysteries as great, ceremonies as gorgeous, supersti- 
tion as gross, terrors as profound, ignorance as universal, and 
immorality as extensive as Paganism itself. It had become 
thoroughly contagionized, and the leprosy had eaten into the 
very vitals of society. 

During this era the secret principle developed itself in the 
assassins of the east, — the Knights Templars, the Secret 
Tribunals of Westphalia,] | the masonic order, the Inquisition, 
the order of the Jesuits, in those Anti-papal societies of which 
Dante, Petrarch and others were the exponents, and in numer- 
ous other societies. 

In regard to all secret societies relating to social and civil 
matters, the author of the work on the secret societies of the 
Middle Ages, says : "It is an important advance in civilization 
and a great social gain, to have got rid, for all public purposes, 
of secret societies — both of their existence and of their use ; for, 
that, like most of the other obsolete forms into which the 
arrangements of society have at one time or other resolved 
themselves, some of these mysterious and exclusive institutions, 
whether for preserving knowledge or dispensing justice, served, 
each in its day, purposes of the highest utility, which apparently 
could not have been accomplished by any other existing or 

*See Bingham's Antiquities, vol. iii. p. 98, and Oxford Tracts, vol. v Tr 
89, p. 11. tBingham do. p. 99. 

tHistory of Christianity, vol. i. p. 31. §Bins:ham do. p. 108-110. 

II Secret Societies of the Middle Ages, Lond. 1846, p. 407, 408. See 
Rossetti on the Antipapal Spirit in Literature before the Reformation vol 
i. p. 149, 150, 155, and vol. ii. p. Ill, 113, 117, 143. 


available contrivance, has been sufficiently shown by the exposi- 
tions that have been given, in the preceding pages of the me- 
chanism and working of certain of the most remarkable of 
their number. But it has been made at least equally evident 
that the evils attendant upon their operation and inherent in 
their nature were also very great, and that considered even as 
the suitable remedies for a most disordered condition of human 
affairs, they were at best only not quite so bad as the disease. 
They were instituted for preserving knowledge, not by promo- 
ting, but by preventing that diffusion of it which, after all, both 
gives to it its chief value, and, in a natural state of things, most 
effectually insures its purification, as well as its increase ; and 
for executing justice by trampling under foot the rights alike 
of the wrong doer and of his victim. Mankind may be said to 
have stepped out of night into day, in having thrown off the 
burden and bondage of this form of the social system, and 
having attained to the power of pursuing knowledge and jus- 
tice in the spirit of justice. We have now escaped from that 
state of confusion and conflict in which one man's gain was 
necessarily another man's loss, and are fairly on our way to- 
wards that opposite state, in which, in every thing, as far as the 
constitution of this world will permit, the gain of one shall 
be the gain of all. This latter to whatever degree it may be 
actually attainable, is the proper hope and goal of all human 

*Another illutration of the extent to which the principle had been carried 
and the evils to which it had led will be here given : "The importance of the 
change which substitutes the public and oral form of procedure for the 
secret sittings and written acten of the courts under the old German Land- 
recht cannot be too highly estimated. It is, in itself, a revolution. Under 
the old system the judge was also the prosecutor ; all his ingenuity and legal 
knowledge were arrayed against the accused ; all his skill was devoted to 
procuring a conviction, or driving the prisoner to a confession, often by the 
most cruel mental torture. It might be difficult under such a system for a 
guilty man to escape ; but the position of any one unjustly accused of a 
crime, even in Prussia, where the Landrecht had be€n modified, was a 
frightful one. A criminal inquiry that only lasted a year from the time of 
the arrest till the delivery of the sentence was to be considered a speedy 
one, the number of sittings and examinations within that period being 
unlimited. An illustration of this has just occurred. Within the last few 
days a man named Classen, a cabinet-maker or carpenter, has been condemned 
to imprisonment for life for the murder of his wife ; the crime was com- 
mitted during the Christmas holidays of 1847, and the trial has been going 
on ever since. In the case of the Catholic priest Riembauer, tried for mur- 
dering his maid-servant, whom he had seduced, the documents in four years 
swelled to 42 folio volumes, still extant, though there was but one direct 
witness as to the fact. At one of the hearings the judge suddenly uncov- 
ered the skull of the victim for the purpose of surprising the prisoner into 
some exclamation that might reveal his guilt. At the hundredth sitting the 
accused became conscience-stricken, and admitted he was guilty of the 
crime, but with some qualification, and from a technical difficulty in proving 
the exact cause of death after the lapse of years, he, in spite of the 42 
volumes recorded against him, escoped the punishment he deserved. The 
trial of the Pastor Tinnius, for two murders, robbery, and embezzlement of 
church funds, all committed to indulge a mania for collecting books, lasted 
ten years. 


Similar societies still, to some extent, exist.* The evil, cor- 
ruption, tyranny, impiety and immorality which led to the sup- 
pression of others turned the tide of favour towards Masonry, 
which prevailed to a wonderful extent, until similar causes led 
to similar results, and the growing degeneracy of the system 
together with some evidences of unlawful and antisocial ten- 
dencies, led to its unpopularity, and to its open renunciation by 
a great number of its adherents. There are now therefore 
Masonic Clubs against which even the fraternity are openly 
warned. f 

When the Odd Fellows began to exist history does not 
inform us, and its advocates cannot determine. $ There is a 
variation between selecting the period of the Fall, the age of 
Christianity, and some recent period. 1 1 Be this as it may, the 
society had so far degenerated in 1813, that it became necessary 
to "revolutionize" in order to reform. § "A Declaration of 
Independence," as Mr. Porter says it may very properly be 
called, was drawn up by a convention, and a new society 
formed, under the title of the Independent Order of Odd Fel- 
lows,"ff a society into which the spirit of secrecy has com- 
pletely emptied itself. 

The object, aim, and end professed by this society, and to a 
most praiseworthy extent carried out, is of unquestionable 
goodness. It is free from all convivial habits, which open up 
an immediate entrance to corruption in such societies. And it 
guarantees much benefit to its members, by the number of 
pious and respectable members enrolled in the order. 

Already, however, we perceive by the report of the M. W. 
Grand Sire, for 1847, that some discord, and some division and 
some independence, rather too independent even for Odd Fel- 
lows, has created fears for the permanence of that cordiality, 
subjection and love essential to the harmony of 120,000 mem- 
bers, and the expenditure of $300,000 per annum. "The dis- 
cussion, says the Grand Sire, of the internal affairs of our insti- 
tution, by a portion of the public press, claiming to be organs of 
Odd Fellowship, will I fear be seriously detrimental to its best 
interests. Many erroneous constructions of law and usage have 
been by means of that press, scattered abroad throughout this 
jurisdiction. The domestic relation of the institution, as well as 
the laws by which it is governed, have been made the subject 
of controversy and comment ; paper has warred against paper, 
each enlisting in its support a portion of the Order ; and discord 

*They exist in a form very analogous to these, in China. See the Middle 
Kingdom, vol. i. p. 394, vol. ii. 280, ends of 394, 395, intimated by and 
degeneracy of, p. 284. 

tFreemason's Monitor, p. 53, and Odiorne's Opinions. 

JPorter, p. 13. | |The Covenant, p. 98, 100, and Oration, p. 13. 

§Porter, p. 13. ttOration, p. 15. 


has been fostered, if not created, where peace and harmony 
previously existed." 

In estimating the claims of the Odd Fellows, however, it is 
to be remembered that this society is in its virgin and primitive 
purity and simplicity. It is only laying its deep foundations 
and erecting its gorgeous superstructure. And with charity as 
its object, and purity and wisdom as its directors, it is a most 
invidious task for us to prognosticate future evil. We do not 
wish it, and if it were in our power we would not will it. But 
still we have our fears, founded upon human imperfection, and 
past invariable experience of the course of similar societies, 
which are closed against the sunshine and the atmosphere of a 
full, free and unobstructed public canvass, opinion and review. 
Our objection is not to the conduct, of which we know little, but 
to the principle of the society. We object to all similar 
societies, whether Sons of Temperance, Rechabites or what not, 
on the following grounds : They are secret ; they are therefore, 
anti-social and anti-republican ; they conflict with the claims of 
friendship, of love, and of society ; they endanger the spirit and 
principles of a pure and candid heart in which there is no guile, 
no deceit, no subterfuge, no pride, and no pharisaic love of 
distinction and superiority; they are, because secret, liable not 
only to corruption, but to perversion; they may become the 
engines of political power, the organs of disorganizing and 
demoralizing factions. We ask, therefore, as Philo did in the 
first century, since "nature makes all her most beautiful and 
splendid works, her heaven, and all her stars for the sight of 
all; her seas, fountains and rivers, the annual temperature of 
the air, and the winds, the innumerable tribes and races of 
animals and fruits of the earth for the common use of man ; 
why then are the mysteries confined to a few. and those not 
always the most wise and the most virtuous." This is the gen- 
eral sense of a long passage. 

Such societies claim to be what they are not. Charity and 
benevolence is the high and holy mission which they affirm to 
be their sole and entire object. The language of St. Paul 
is therefore, by a most gross perversion, taken as their motto : 
"And now abideth faith, hope, and charity, but the greatest of 
these is charity." But true charity "is no respecter of per- 
sons." Charity is kind to the unthankful as well as to the 
grateful, to the evil as well as to the good. Charity knows no 
distinctions, and in its eye there is neither male nor female, 
bond nor free, poor nor rich. Charity giveth to the poor that 
have nothing to retum, and expecteth not again. The charity 
of these societies, however, is limited by sex, by character, and 
by obedience to their rules — by conformity to all their views — ■ 
by paying an entrance fee varying from five dollars to thirty- 


five dollars according to age, that is, in proportion to men's 
need of it and inability to afford it, and by the payment of a 
yearly sum varying from seven dollars to an indefinite amount. 
"If even a brother," says the covenant, "be more than thirteen 
weeks in arrears to his lodge, he is not entitled to his benefits, 
nor can he get into any lodge in any part of the world." "The 
system/' adds this organ, "is formed as if the plan had 


While, therefore, these societies claim from God and man the 
merit of the holy mission of charity, and while they blow a 
trumpet before them to let all men know that they exist only to 
be charitable, their nature, after all, is only that of mutual 
insurance societies and this their organ is obliged to admit.* 
"The two great objects," says the covenant, "are to foster a 
regard for each other's interest and welfare, and to provide a 
fund for life and health insurance to its members. "f To this 
end it accumulates funds, erects buildings, and increases power, 
credit, and influence among men. For self-gratification and 
self-exaltation therefore, while poverty abounds around them, 
they provide houses, expensive arrangements, and dresses with- 
out which no one can enter a lodge or parade : they multiply 
orders, honours, titles, forms, obsequious salutations, and marks 
of respect, and thus they feed the principle of pride, vanity, 
aristocracy, envy, jealousy, and selfishness. And by securing 
universal provision for sickness and for bereaved families, may 
they not in many cases foster indolence, and idleness, and 
unworthiness, and break down the spirit of a manly indepen- 
dence and industrious prudence? 

But our greatest objection to these societies remains, and it is, 
that while they unnecessarily use the bond of secrecy, (which is 
in no way essential to maintain their own securities,) they lay 
claim to the high and holy character of religion and tamper 
with its sacred words, offices and spirit. 

"What is Odd Fellowship," asks the Talisman? "We 
answer in a single word it is practical Christianity."^ In their 

*"An intelligent member of the Order in question stated to the writer 
recently, that it was a matter of regret that the claim had ever been set up 
that they were a 'charitable society,' for, said he, 'the principle of benevo- 
lence has no place in our code at all ; we pay out to those who are by our rules 
entitled to funds, and to no others : we pay out so long as members pay in, 
and when they stop paying, their membership ceases, and our obligations to 
them cease ; we are in fact an extensive insurance company ; if I am abroad 
among strangers I have a right by my well-earned membership to receive 
the notice of brethren of the Order; and they in return know that if they 
come here they have a claim on my attention, and if I refuse it, they would 
report me to the Order, and I should be disciplined or expelled.' " 

tVol. i. p. 101. 

J"What is Odd Fellowship? — The astonishing progress which the Inde- 
pendent Order of Odd Fellows is making, both in this country and in 
Europe, renders the above question one of no ordinary importance. If 
there is an institution in our very midst which has made the most gigantic 


instructions, therefore, they associate with emblems, signs and 
symbols "lessons from the sacred scriptures,"* and distinctly 
recognise in their initiation office, the divine authority of the 
Bible and their obligation to be governed by its spirit.f 

"The Bible," said one of their members to me, "is the basis 
of the whole order." It is therefore in every lodge room, and is 
carried about in every procession and is called that great 
"luminary of the craft."| 

These societies quote and appropriate many scriptural pas- 
sages.] | They have their prayers, their benedictions, their 
blessings, and their funeral services. "A good mason," or other 
brother can never therefore, it is said, "be a bad man."§ And 
"the triumphs of Odd Fellowship are those of peace and good 
will among men."§§ 

God, therefore, is the grand architect. Melchisedec, and all 
the prophets and apostles, not excluding the Saviour, were 
members of the fraternity,** and while (as they blasphemously 
pervert the words) the secret of the Lord is with them that fear 
Him "here, and He will show them his (their italics) Covenant. 
"The faithful shall be welcomed to the grand lodge above."tt 

"Now in reference to these allegations we remark, first, that 
they do not state what is the fact in the case. Christianity is 
in part doctrinal, and in part practical. It contains doctrines, 
worship, church officers, ordinances, duties, and many practical 
requirements. But these societies know nothing of any one of 
the doctrines which distinguish Christianity. They know 
nothing of the author, the founder, the very life and light 
of Christianity. They know nothing of the spiritual views, 
feelings, motives, and qualities, which enter into practical Chris- 
tianity. They know nothing of the church, the worship, the 
ordinances, or the duties enjoined by Christianity. None of 
these things enter into the constitution of these societies. They 
know them not. They heed them not. Like Gallio they care 
for none of these things. The doctrines, the duties, the ordi- 
nances, the officers, the rules, and the government of Christ's 
kingdom — these things which constitute the very end and 
essence of the Bible, as a revelation of God's will and of man's 

onward strides, and which already numbers among its members many of the 
most influential and powerful citizens of this great republic, and is still 
increasing, the inquiry is both necessary and proper. What is Odd Fellow- 
ship ? We answer in a single word ; it is practical Christianity. It com- 
bines all that is excellent in religion, pure in morals, and benevolent in 
practice. Beneath its sweet and gentle influences the rugged nature of man 
becomes softened by sympathy ; the finer feelings of the heart are developed 
and cultivated ; the social principle is strengthened ; the fraternal relations 
cherished and invigorated. Before its onward progress, woe and crime flee 
away ; the unhappy fiends of unholy passion shrink into their dens of 
shame." — The Talisman. *The Covenant, Vol. i. p. 103. 

tDo. JDo. p. 102. Freemason's Monitor, p. 103. ||Do. p. 128. 

§Monitor, p. 120. §§Mr. Porter's Oration, p. 19. **Monitor. 

ttThe Covenant, Vol. i. pp. 193, 194. 


duty, are set at naught. A man, therefore, may become a par- 
taker of this "practical Christianity," and yet neither believe, 
nor obey any one of the characteristic and essential doctrines 
or duties of Christianity. He may be a Jew, or a Mahometan, 
or a Heathen, or an infidel, or an ungodly sinner, or an impeni- 
tent, unbelieving, and unregenerate man, under God's frown 
and condemnation, and exposed to everlasting damnation, and 
yet according to the teachings of these societies he may he a 
practical christian. Membership in an Odd Fellows' lodge is 
thus made a substitute for that christian piety, without which 
no man can see the Lord. While claiming to reverence the 
Bible, God, and Christianity, the Bible is first prostituted and 
then suborned; Christ is annihilated as a Prince and Saviour, 
and God is made the "Grand Patron" of error and delusion. 
Pride, passion, envy, jealousy, hatred, and opposition to all but 
their own order, lust and unbelief, may riot in the heart, and yet 
their guilty victims be guaranteed comfort upon earth and hap- 
piness in heaven. 

It will not do to say, as some of the advocates, to escape from 
conviction of such deep and dangerous guilt, do say, that the 
forms and ceremonies of these orders are not religious. What 
then we would ask are they? They are placed in juxtaposi- 
tion with the Bible. They are performed in the name of God. 
They imply homage to Him. They refer to the soul in life and 
in death. And are not these elements of religion? 

When, therefore, good and christian men unite with such 
societies, and give them their name, influence, and sanction, do 
they not become responsible for taking God's name and God's 
word in vain, and for erecting upon the foundation of eternal 
and unalterable truth, (unalterable either by way of addition or 
subtraction under the penalty of everlasting death) "the hay, 
wood and stubble" of man's inventions, and man's will-worship ? 
Do they not lead others to regard this system as in all respects 
sufficient for them, and are they not involving themselves and 
their posterity in all the evils which must and will result from 
these societies, as they become gradually corrupt, unless they 
form a singular exception to all other secret societies that have 
ever existed in the world? Nay the evil is already working 
and producing in many christian minds the secret leaven of 
ultimate and thorough-going infidelity. We are not a Httle 
astonished that sentiments like the following should be cher- 
ished and expressed by one who boldly calls himself "a humble 
and sincere disciple of the Lord." ! ! ! "Both my experience 
and observation demonstrate the truth that there is little of 
christian love in the church, and that a man in a strange land can 
claim nothing as a christian that he could not claim as a world- 
ling." Where, in this wicked world, does this christian brother 


live, that he should have imbibed as truth this stale calumny of 
infidelity? We know not where he lives nor who he is. But 
we know that such feelings are the natural result of the associa- 
tions and working of these secret societies. They begin by 
making men Pharisees, and end by transforming them into 
Sadducees. ''To suppose that Christ Jesus, for the purpose of 
benefiting or reforming men, would have joined a society like 
the Sons of Temperance or the Odd Fellows; pledged himself 
to keep its transactions secret from all the female, and most of 
the male disciples ; to receive and call the members of such 
societies, whether Jews, universalists, atheists, deists, or Ma- 
hometans, his brethren ; that he would have listened to uncon- 
verted men pronouncing a sort of blessing in the name of the 
great Patriarch above ; to suppose that Christ would have 
devoted or advised his disciples to devote the time and expense 
called for by such societies to such ends ; that he would have 
put on their regalia, and walked thus in processions ; that he 
would have entered into their meetings by the outside and 
inside sentinels ; sat with closed doors and shutters ; addressed 
the presiding officer by the title of 'Most worthy Patriarch,' 
whether the person elected 'Patriarch' 'by ballot every three 
months,' happened to be old or young, worthy or unworthy of 
such a sounding title ; to suppose the blessed Jesus would have 
met in such a secret conclave to devise measures and execute 
schemes of reform, which are kept secret from the persons to be 
reformed ; to suppose this is to betray an utter ignorance of 
Christ, his character, doctrines and mission. Christ was open 
in all his proceedings; these societies are dark. He rejected 
pompous titles ; these societies confer them. He was a pattern 
of severe simplicity in person and in speech ; these employ gar- 
ish regalia and cabalistic jargon. 

"Christ explicity declares, and we repeat the expression, that 
he resorted to no secret methods of reform: 'In secret have I 
SAID NOTHING.' All the cnds which he proposed and the means 
by which they were to be reached, were open, and the world's 
scrutiny was constantly invited. This information is expHcit. 
and it is to the point. There were no secret societies among 
Christ's disciples. Cabals and conclaves there were in their 
days ; Venus had her mysteries, and Bacchus his orgies, and 
Jupiter his games ; and these all had their processions, their 
badges, their signs of initiation and degrees of progress. But 
these were not of Christ nor for Christ. Their pretended 
foundation was philosophy, and their professed end happiness 
and light. But their practical working was fraud and imposi- 
tion, superstition and lust. Every idol temple was a lodge room, 
and every junto of pagan priests was a lodge, who amused the 
multitude by shows, pageants and processions ; attracted the 


philosophic by pretensions to wisdom; awed the superstitious 
by their mystic rites ; gained money from all classes ; and, in the 
name of one God or another, gratified the appetites and ambi- 
tion of cunning and corrupt leaders, while time bore generations 
to the tomb and to the judgment beyond." 

The origin of these societies is to he found, therefore, not in 
Christianity, but in Christianity paganized and corrupted by 
popery. And hence these societies find a remarkable parallel in 
many Romish societies,* and hence also the principles upon 
which they are founded constitute the basis of the Tractarian 
movement in England and America, and have formed the easy 
pathway for many of its followers "from Oxford to Rome."t 

It seems that Dr. Hook is a member of the Manchester Unity 
of Independent Odd Fellows, and that, influenced by his exam- 
ple, or "feeling confident that he could not go wrong while 
treading in the footsteps of the most eminent and practical par- 
ish priest of the age," a Sussex clergyman (the Rev. H. New- 
land, Rector and Vicar of Westborne) was induced to join the 
Society and advise his people to do the same. He has since 
preached a sermon before the members of the order at South- 
ampton, in which his well known "Church principles" are not 
indistinctly stated ; but there is one passage so curious, and we 
must say, so suspicious, that we cannot forbear adding it. It is 
as follows — 

"The revival of the ancient institution which we are this day 
met to celebrate, is but another display of that feeling which 
God in his mercy has stirred up in our hearts, as a fresh bul- 
wark to the Church he has promised always to be with ; it is a 
reverence for, it is a desire to return to the institutions of our 
forefathers. The name indeed is modern, it was changed, for 
reasons that I shall afterwards mention ; but the principle is 
ancient, and though perhaps thirty years ago the word Odd 
Fellowship was unknown, yet societies similar in all respects to 
that which we see revived in our own days, existed 1200 years 
ago, and in the times of the Saxon Heptarchy. 

"In those days they were called gilds, from the Saxon word 
'gildan,' which means 'to pay,' because the necessary constitu- 
tion of societies so called together, was that the members should 
pay something towards the support of the brotherhood to which 
they belonged. 'Gilds,' says Dr. Lingard, 'were an institution 
of great antiquity among the Anglo-Saxons, and in every pop- 
ulous neighborhood they existed in various ramifications.' In 
those times (as is now the case in Germany), they generally 
consisted of particular trades : such as the Gild of Weavers, the 
Gild of Masons, the Gild of Fishmongers, the Gild of Apothe- 

*See Hall on Purgatory, p. 320, 321. 

tSee Oxford Tracts for the Times, Vol. .5, p. 6 and Pt. 11, §5. 

26— Vol. v. 


caries, and the like, who used, at stated times, to meet at their 
Guildhall ; but in our days it has been considered more con- 
venient to do away with the exclusiveness and party feeling, 
which so frequently arose from the conflicting interests of the 
different trades, and to join them all under the general title of 
Odd (that is unconnected) Fellows. 

" 'The Guild was at all times essentially a christian associa- 
tion or brotherhood, inasmuch as the ordinary members, over 
and above the special object for which they were associated, 
bind themselves to the performance of certain religious duties, 
with a view to their daily improvement in virtue.'* Thus we — 
though associated for the purpose of providing relief in sickness 
and a payment at death for ourselves — sanctify that object by 
raising a fund for the relief of widows and orphans generally, 
the first fruits of which we present at God's Holy Table, and 
thus throw the authority and protection of religion around insti- 
tutions of a character otherwise secular; acknowledging that 
human institutions will be for the most part vain, unless we 
bring religion in aid of earthly wisdom. 

"To show you how little altered the principle of the society is 
now from what it was a thousand years ago, I will transcribe a 
translation of part of the laws belonging to the Gild of Abbots- 

" 'If any one belonging to our association chance to die, each 
member shall pay one penny for the good of the soul, before the 
body be laid in the grave; if he neglect it he shall be fined a 
triple sum ; if any one of us fall sick within sixty miles, we 
engage to find fifteen men who shall bring him home ; but if he 
die first, we will find thirty to convey him to the place where 
he desires to be buried, and the Steward shall summon as many 
members as he can to assemble and attend the corpse in an 
honourable manner, to carry it to the minister, and pray 
devoutly for his soul.' 'Let us act in this manner,' says the 
commentator, 'and we shall perform the duties of our confra- 
ternity; for we know not who among us may die first, but we 
believe, with the assistance of God, this agreement, if rightly 
observed, will profit us all.' 

"These laws, modified in some slight degree to suit the times, 
are the laws of the present day, and the brotherhood, as we 
now see it, may be defined as a benefit society, bound by general 
laws, and sanctified by the exercise of a religious act, — Charity 
towards the fatherless and widows." 

Let no man then be deluded by the supposition that secret 
societies whether Masonic, Temperance or Odd Fellows, are 
"Practical Christianity" or christian at all. They are in their 
origin pagan, in their tendency popish, and in their spirit anti- 

*Bishop Gillis. 


christian. Hence they are regarded by Nolan and other writers, 
to form a part of the destined instrumentaUty by which the 
great predicted apostasy will effect its destructive purposes.* 

Neither let any one look to these societies as the source of 
moral reformation. Reliance for promoting benevolence and 
good morals generally, must be solely and wholly on the gospel 
and the grace of God. Tom from this living root, this evan- 
gelical basis, all experience shows that sound morality will 
quickly wither and expire. All other methods are empirical 
and delusive. The bad tree cannot bear good fruit, and every 
plant which our Heavenly Father hath not planted shall be 
rooted up.$ In proportion as we vigorously ply the gospel 
means for making men better, we may expect success ; in pro- 
portion as we forsake them to try other devices, nothing but 

Would we see what the gospel and the church have done? 
Let us contrast christian with heathen lands and christian with 
heathen ages. Extinguish every institution found in the former 
and never known in the latter, for the poor, the aged, the sick, 
the blind, the deaf, the dumb, the destitute, the cold and perish- 
ing, the orphan and widow, the superannuated and imbecile, 
the ignorant and them that have no guide. The fact is that 
every thing that refines and elevates society, and that soothes 
its sorrows, and alleviates its calamities, is the fruit of Chris- 
tianity. And would we see what Christianity could do? Let 
all among us become christians and let christians be what they 
should be, and then there would not remain a tear unwiped, a 
sorrow unrelieved, or a calamity unprovided for. Yes, if all 
the members of our churches would thus live and act and give 
to the church the energy, time, activity and zeal devoted to 
other objects, and if they would promote among themselves as 
far as need be, associations for the ends contemplated by these 
secret societies, how would our churches, instead of being lan- 
guishing and faint, arise and shine, the glory of the Lord being 
arisen upon them, and how would they constrain all men to see 
and feel that "God is in them of a truth."t 

*On the Millennium, p. 83. tSee Bloomfield on this passage. 

tWe would here call attention to the Christian Mutual Benefit Societies 
established in New York, of which the following is a notice : "The Third 
Anniversary of the Christian Mutual Benefit Society, No. 3, was held on 
Wednesday evening, 17th ult., in the Central Presbyterian Church in 
Broome street. The Rev. J. C. Hopkins, of the Bethesda Baptist Church, 
presided : the report of the Society was read by the Secretary, and addresses 
were delivered by the Rev. Geo. F. Kettell, of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church in Vestry street, and Rev. Mr. Armitage, of the Baptist Church in 
Norfolk street. As this Association is a practical illustration of Christian 
Union, we take much pleasure in calling the attention of our readers to 
their anniversary. It is composed entirely of church members, and the 
report states that the members are attached to twenty-six dififerent churches 
in this city. Their principal object is to relieve the sick, and provide for 
the families of those who may be taken away ; being similar, in most of the 


To every christian man who had been led into these secret 
associations we would therefore with all earnestness say : 
"Brother, you have made a mistake in 'carrying out the princi- 
ples of Christ,' as you call them. His principles require us to 
'do good to all men as we have opportunity, especially to them 
who are of the household of faith;' but you have allied your- 
self to a society which requires you to aid and assist all men in 
distress, and especially those who understand the secret grip. 
Christ never acted upon or inculcated such a principle as that. 
He enjoins upon his followers that while they do good to all 
men, they should especially feel compassion, not for those who 
can give a secret sign, but for those who love and follow Him. 
Beware, then, my brother, how you transfer your sympathies 
from your brethren in the church to a society which makes 
religion no test of membership, and bind yourself by rules 
which TO YOU are contrary to the inspired word." 

details of their organization, to the Odd Fellows and Sons of Temperance, 
without presenting those objections which exist in many minds to secret 
societies. This association is organized and conducted entirely on Christian 
principles, and in addition to its leading object must do much to do away 
denominational prejudices, and draw closer the bonds of Christian love 
and sympathy which exist in every Christian heart, but which are so often 
chilled for want of light and sunshine, that they wither and die, and cease 
to be known as distinguishing traits of Christian character." 




The Orphan House, 


October 18th, 1837. 




Printed by J. S. Burges, 

No. 85 East Bay. 



Halle is a largfe town of Prussian Saxony, situated on both 
sides of the river Saale. It contains twenty-four thousand 
inhabitants and many objects of attraction. Among these are 
its cathedral, the tower of which is higher than two hundred 
and sixty-eight feet, and its famous university, which is even 
yet attended by six hundred students, and has sent forth some 
of the most eminent German scholars. 

But the celebrity of Halle depends on a different cause. The 
traveller who enters this town, as he casts his eyes around, is 
attracted by a large pile of buildings sufficient to fill both sides 
of a court eight hundred feet long. On inquiry he is informed 
that this is the Orphan House, and that it was built by one who 
had himself, by the early loss of his father, known what it was 
to be left an orphan in a friendless world. 

The Rev. Augustus Herman Francke was a man remarkable 
for his piety and benevolence. When he came to hve in Halle 
as a Professor in its university, it was customary for the poor to 
go round on certain days and receive from the inhabitants what- 
ever assistance they might be disposed to render. Francke was 
struck, not only with their poverty and squalid wretchedness, 
but much more by their moral degradation. Though himself 
poor, he determined out of his poverty, to make an effort to 
befriend them, by taking charge of some children and having 
them educated. Being encouraged and assisted in this attempt 
he finally resolved, in dependence upon that charity which God 
might awaken in answer to his prayers, to attempt the erection 
of a large building, where these orphan children might be 
received, provided for, and instructed. By a series of the most 
wonderful and almost incredible interpositions of divine provi- 
dence, he completed that establishment which has perpetuated 
his fame, given celebrity to the town, and rendered incalculable 
benefit to the country and the world. His birth-day is still 
yearly celebrated at the institutions, which commands the undi- 
minished interest of the inhabitants. 

In the year 1727, when Francke died, there were in all the 
schools connected with this establishment two thousand and 
two hundred pupils. One hundred and thirty-four of these 
were orphans who lived in the Orphan House, and who with 
one hundred and sixty other children and two hundred and fifty 
indigent students, daily ate at the public tables of the establish- 
ment without charge. 


Connected with the institution, Francke had erected several 
departments in which children intended for any kind of busi- 
ness received an appropriate education. In the year one thous- 
and six hundred and ninety-eight, an apothecary's shop was 
opened, and simple and popular medicines manufactured, which 
brought in at one time an income of not less than thirty-six 
thousand six dollars. Another department is the book 
store, the printing for which is done in the establishment, which 
has become one of the most extensive in Germany, and a source 
of considerable revenue. The Orphan House possesses also a 
library of twenty thousand volumes ; a museum of natural 
science — and a chemical laboratory. In this institution also is 
located the celebrated Canstein Bible establishment, whose 
object it is to send abroad through Europe the word of God by 
printing it so cheaply that all may purchase. From this society 
have been issued two millions of Bibles and one million of New 
Testaments. Since the commencement of the institution, four 
thousand five hundred orphans alone, of whom three-fourths 
were boys, have been here educated. 

This vast establishment, which has for a long time entirely 
supported itself, although it still receives benefactions, took its 
rise from three dollars and a half, which was given to Francke, 
and from the invincible faith, energy and perseverance of this 
one man. "Better to have such an eulogy as is contained in the 
history of this Orphan House, than to be the conqueror of the 
world. Better to be embalmed as Francke, in the grateful 
recollections^ of thousands, than to sleep under the proudest 
monument that has ever covered the remains of earthly great- 
ness." Well may the benevolent traveller turn away from the 
curious monuments of St. Ulric, the Town House with its relics 
of the Imperial Constitution, the neighboring mines and manu- 
factories, and feast his soul on this miracle of charity, this won- 
derful achievement of christian faith. 

And perhaps, my fellow-citizens, you will not think the brief 
account which I have given of an institution renowned through- 
out the world, an uninteresting or unappropriate introduction to 
the address to be delivered on this Anniversary of your Orphan 
Asylum. The perfection of this institution being your great 
desire, some hints towards this consummation may be derived 
from the course pursued in one so eminently successful. The 
spirit of an honorable emulation may well be awakened, and the 
talents of some consecrated, perhaps, to this glorious under- 

I was led to these reflections by the correspondence of the 
emotions excited in a recent traveller on his visit to Halle, and 
my own when I first came to this city. My attention was soon 
attracted to yonder building, large and yet simple, — in good 


and careful repair — evidencing attention and interest and a high 
estimate of its importance, — with its spacious grounds and gar- 
dens, throwing around it the smiHng aspect of pleasure and com- 
fort, rather than of confinement — and with its modest spire and 
chapel pointing heavenward, informing me that it was conse- 
crated to the genius of piety and prospered under the fostering 
care of heaven. It was unnecessary to inquire into its nature, 
for it bore enstamped upon it the image of charity, while its 
lettered front told me that this was the home of the Southern 
Orphan. And does it not speak to the stranger's heart, whose 
father or mother or both may lie slumbering under the sod of 
some distant island in the far off ocean, with a sweeter and more 
touching voice than any or all the other buildings which may 
adorn your city. "Well," said I, "a man may come here a for- 
eigner and an alien, he may be unknown, he may contend with 
the fierceness and treachery of disease, and he may fall in the 
midst of his hopes a victim — but his children have found a 
home. They will not be outcasts. Kind voices will address 
them, and kind hands lead them ; and here they will be nurtured 
in the lap of care, of knowedge. and of religion. Glory be to 
him who is known as Abbe Yetomim, the father of orphans, 
who has led to the erection of such an Asylum." 

Fifty years ago, and no such retreat for the homeless children 
of penury was found in this city. Then might they be seen 
clad only in the livery of misfortune, wandering about the 
streets, seeking a support from casual charity, or cast upon the 
bounty of some good Samaritan, who might be touched with 
their distress. For them no cheerful fireside prepared the 
accustomed seat. No parent's voice conveyed to them the les- 
sons of admonition. No restraining authority kept them back 
from the paths of destruction and the snares of vice. They 
became accustomed to crimes before they knew that they were 
evil, exhibiting childhood without childhood's innocence. They 
grew up as weeds in the garden of society, spreading around 
them their pestiferous influence. Without character, with no 
interest in the public happiness, regarding themselves as out- 
casts from all the advantages, they spurned at the restraints of 
law, and thus became enemies of the peace and burdens upon 
the prosperity of the community. 

Then might be seen the poor widow with her numerous off- 
spring, possessing the name without the power or the resources 
of a guardian, left by her husband's death in an unprovided 
home, with no habit of personal exertion, no ability to meet the 
harsh selfishness of the world, and no knowledge of any means 
whereby she might procure subsistence for herself or family. 

Death ! thou art always terrible ! Thick darkness rests upon 
the grave ! And fearful are the terrors which encompass the 


dreary valley of death ! Trying is even the temporary separa- 
tion of loved companions, but when by the ruthless hand of 
death it is made final and unchangeable, oh! is it not indeed 
dreadful? But when this calamity comes down like an 
avalanche upon some family, dependent for their daily bread 
upon their daily labor; when it overwhelms in its ruins, the 
head of such an infant community ; when it carries blight over 
every coming prospect, and scaths every present means of com- 
fort and enjoyment; there is added to those pangs which rend 
the heart of true affection, the hopelessness of a dark and 
dreary future in a pitiless world. To be bereft of a fond hus- 
band or of an affectionate father, even when he leaves his 
widow well provided for, and his children comfortable, is to 
enter the depth of human wretchedness ; but to be deprived then 
of this only remaining stay against the floods of earthly sorrow ; 
to have this only light shut out from their darkness, is to be 
sunk into a deeper depth of unutterable misery. Who that has 
not experienced such misfortune can conceive or describe it, 
can enter into those wailings of despairing sorrow, which be- 
come the natural language of the helpless widow, or those 
shrieks of terror which instinctively break forth from the 
fatherless and portionless orphan ? 

Such, however, were the scenes then witnessed, and not un- 
frequently in this city, and such the sorrow which was then 
endured in this christian community. How many and how- 
aggravated they were, those ministering spirits can alone say, 
who hovered over these habitations of calamity, not as in the 
hour of Egypt's doom, tihat they might destroy, but that they 
might bind up the broken heart, and pour the oil of consolation 
into the bleeding wound. 

It was about the year 1786, that the City Council of Charles- 
ton requested a gentleman to present before them a plan of the 
Orphan House in Georgia, erected through the exertions of the 
celebrated Whitefield. The subject was not acted upon until 
three years after, when owing to the zeal and perseverance of 
Mr. John Robertson, then a member of Council, an ordinance 
was passed for the erection of a similar institution, under the 
care and protection of the city. This was on the 18th of Oct. 
1790, forty-seven years ago. And here let me say, for the 
encouragement of all, who are disposed to engage in plans of 
usefulness, that the individual we have named was of com- 
paratively humble standing in the community, and indebted 
for his success in this business, wholly to his spirit of persever- 
ing benevolence. A temporary house was obtained for the 
accommodation of the children, and on the 13th of Nov. 1792, 
was laid the foundation of the present Orphan House. 


Charleston has been often aroused to deep and universal 
excitement — when, invested by the enemies of her country, she 
awaited victory or destruction — when the fierce hurricane swept 
over her in devastation — when the flames seemed commissioned 
to lay waste and utterly destroy — but never perhaps was she 
filled with such an universal spirit of sympathy, and so ani- 
mated as it were by one soul — as when she poured out her 
population in solemn and joyful procession, accompanied with 
the stirring sounds of pealing music, to witness this event. 
Proud and glorious triumph of the spirit of Christianity — the 
spirit of charity — when a whole community were seen assem- 
bled in the presence of the God of the Bible, that thy might 
publicly proclaim to the houseless orphan, "Behold your home ;" 
to the friendless, "Behold in us your friends;" to the father- 
less, "Behold in us your father." 

In the year 1794, on this day, the 18th of October, the same 
community were seen again assembled to receive into the bosom 
of yonder asylum, their collected orphans, and year by year 
have they come together on this memorable day, that they 
might sing the praises of charity, rejoice over their adopted 
family, and give thanks to the author of all mercy and the 
giver of every good and perfect gift. 

We have said that in the erection of this Institution, and in 
the circumstances connected with it, there was a noble tribute 
to the power of Christianity, and the goodness of its all merciful 
author. Before proceeding to the further consideration of this 
institution, let us dwell a little upon this point. For it is a first 
principle of duty, to render unto God the things that are God's, 
and essential to acceptance with him, that in all our ways we 
should acknowledge him, giving unto him the glory that is his 

M. Constant has beautifully said that Christianity is the ef>och 
of pity. Heathen philosophers considered children as beneath 
their notice or attention — the God of the Bible alone is not 
ashamed to be called their Father, and in the person of his Son, 
to take them up in his arms and bless them. Compassionate 
regard to the poor or destitute or helpless, formed no part of 
the teachings of the Pagan philosophy. You might have 
traversed, as has been said, the Roman empire in the zenith of 
its power from the Euphrates to the Atlantic, without meeting 
with a single charitable asylum, for the widow, the orphan, or 
the deceased. Monuments of pride, of ambition, of vindictive 
wrath, were to be found in abundance, but not one legible 
record of pity for the poor.* Not only so, children were abused 
and made subservient to every foolish and hurtful superstition. 

*See Homer's touching description of the pitiable condition to which by 
the death of Hector, his son Astyanax was brought. II. 22. 1. 620, &c. 


"It is a common practice," says Justin in his apology, to the 
Roman Emperor, "to expose infants in your empire ; and there 
are persons who afterwards bring up these infants for the busi- 
ness of prostitution. — Throughout all the nations subject to you, 
we meet with none but children destined for the most execrable 
purposes, who are kept like herds of beasts, and upon whom 
you levy a tribute." This was in perfect accordance with their 
treatment throughout the heathen world, in past and present 
times. The custom of exposing infants, or sacrificing them, 
especially orphans, prevailed among the Egyptians, Latins, 
Greeks, Romans, and other ancient nations. The Caribees were 
accustomed to salt and eat their children.f In New Spain, chil- 
dren were put to death on the first appearance of green corn, 
when it was a foot high, and when it had grown two feet.j 
The Aboriginal inhabitants of Virginia sacrificed children to 
the devil. In Mexico, five or six thousand children were 
annually sacrificed to the numerous Idols, while as many as ten 
thousand are supposed to be now annually exposed to death in 
the capital of China. The Japanese are instructed by their 
religion that the sick and needy, including orphans, are odious, 
and devoted to the gods, and they are accordingly sacrificed or 
left to perish. Before the time of Mahomet, the Arabs refused 
to widows and orphans any share in the property of their 
deceased husbands and fathers. The alteration which he made 
in this law he derived from his acquaintance with the gospel. 

The condition of the poor and needy was incomparably bet- 
tered by the Jewish dispensation. It is declared that among the 
Jews according to their laws, orphans should be considered by 
them as their brethren ; that each family should adopt one ; and 
that the child thus adopted, should eat at the table, share in the 
substance, and be treated as a member of the family. God was 
known in Israel, as a father of the fatherless, and a judge of the 
widow.* These regulations and this spirit of kindness were 
however practically too much disregarded. The ignorant, the 
unfortunate, and the wretched, were by the Pharisaic dogmas 
considered as accursed, as under the frown of heaven, and as 
undeserving of pity. Schoetgenius has quoted this expression 
from one of their books — plebeius non est pius, the poor man is 
not a pious man. 

It is true there may be found in Heathen philosophy and 
more abundantly in Jewish writers, many rich and glowing sen- 
timents of charity. But these sentiments perished in their 
birth ; they were uttered not to be acted upon but admired. 
Stoicism or hardened selfishness was the medium through 
which misery was contemplated, and through which it 

tSee Ryan on Eff. of Relig. p. 273. tRyan, p. 273. 

*See Deut. and Ps. 


appeared stript of all its gloominess, as a mere necessity of 
nature, which like the storm or the hurricane, beat upon hearts 
insensible to its fury or self-sustained. 

The lamp that has led us to this true and noble charity was 
lighted at the altar of Christianity, and there is not existent 
and probably never has been, an asylum for the fatherless and 
friendless orphan beyond the influence of this divine faith. 
Houses have been erected as in India for feeding sacred vermin 
— as in Egypt for the protection and worship of cats and cat- 
tle — and temples erected in abundance where children might be 
immolated and youth consecrated to prostitution and vice — but 
under the whole reign of Paganism, as its own genuine off- 
spring, there has not sprung up one refuge for the 

Poor orphan in the wide world scattered, 

As budding branch wrenched from the native tree, 

And thrown forth till it be withered.! 

Christianity is the religion of charity. It adopts as peculiarly 
its own, the poor and miserable and wretched, and blind and 
naked. It feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, protects the 
stranger, delivers the captive, and receives the orphan under its 
divine paternity. The birth of Christ is one of those appropri- 
ate representations which are hung up in the entrance of those 
institutions where "children dwell who know no parent's care." 
Did He not take them in his arms and bless them, saying, of 
such is the kingdom of heaven ? Is it not the will of our Heav- 
enly Father that not one of these little ones should perish ? He 
that receiveth one of these little ones, is he not regarded as re- 
ceiving Christ, and his charity as given to Christ? It is no 
longer necessary to ask in despair, "What country hath the poor 
to claim?" Christianity shall answer, "God's foundlings then 
are ye." It is the voice of Christianity which is heard address- 
ing us as she points to these young and tender orphans — 
"Honor these children. Welcome them to your embrace, rejoic- 
ing that as the appointed guardians of heaven, they are 
entrusted in this commencement of endless being to your nur- 
ture and admonition. Honor these children." I will not, says 
the Saviour, leave you orphans. How expressive ! I will not 
leave you in that condition in which orphans find themselves in 
these eastern countries, where they are regarded as slaves and 
obliged to serve their protectors.* The Athenians indeed 
adopted for the public the children of those who died fighting 
for their country, educated them until twenty-one, and then giv- 
ing them a suit of armour enlisted them in their armies ; — but 
Christianity, in the munificence of her charity, throws her pro- 
tecting arm around them all, and claims for them all the kind 

tSpencer. *Calmet Diet. Tom. 3, p. 365. Lond. Edit. 


protection of the good, and extends for the acceptance of them 
all adoption into the family of heaven. 

What was the first origin of distinct institutions for the 
orphan we cannot trace. They are referred to in the praise of 
Constantine who was very liberal towards them, and who 
enacted edicts commanding the public to maintain those chil- 
dren unable to provide for themselves.f Orphans were early 
regarded in the canons and laws of the Church and of chris- 
tian countries. Such houses were common in the West, A. D. 
808. Canute is celebrated for his attention to orphans, and 
many Queens and Princes thought themselves distinguished by 
the foundation of a foundling hospital. When Spencer brings 
his wounded knight to the house of holiness, we are told that of 
those who came to wait upon the needy applicants, 

The seventh now after death and burial done, 
Had charge the tender orphans of the dead. 

There are very probably three thousand towns out of many 
thousand in Christendom, in which there are orphan asylums. 
These will contain on an average one hundred children, thus 
making the number of orphan children at present under the 
care and protection of christians, three hundred thousand. Far 
greater would be the result were we to compute the number of 
hospitals and their inmates, colleges and their students, peni- 
tentiaries and their refugees, and which are all the productions 
of this tree of righteousness which bears twelve manner of 
fruits, and whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. 
Blessed are our eyes which witness her heavenly beneficence ! 
Blessed are our ears which hear her joyful sounds ! Blessed 
are our hearts which are made the fountains of her life giving 
influence !* 

Having thus traced this charity to its source, and presented 
our thanksgivings unto its beneficent author, let us turn our 
attention to the charity itself. It would appear unaccountably 
strange that an Institution so simple in itself, in its object so 
constantly obtruded upon public notice, so accordant to the 
beneficent feelings of the heart, and at the same time so fraught 
with manifold advantages to the commtmity in which it exists, 
should not have suggested itself in every age and country. 
Nor can any other solution of this singular fact be given than 
that contained in the word of God, the all absorbing selfishness 
of the human heart, when not renewed by the spirit of divine 
love. We are thus also practically taught that the religion of 
the Bible is promotive of human happiness, not more when it 

tSuiceri Thes. Tom. 2. Also Blackstone's Com't. vol. i. p. 9.5, Chitty's Ed. 
*See a touching illustration of this in an account of the Missionary 
Orphan Asylum in India, and the orphan girls foimd in the street starving. 
Missionary Register, June 1836, p. 283. There is another in Calcutta. 


forbids indulgence in what is evil, than when it enjoins the 
zealous and self-denying pursuit of what is good. 

Were this Institution not based on the deep foundations of 
charity, it would commend itself to our sense of justice. 
Orphans by being deprived of their natural parents become the 
children of the community. What more becoming than that it 
should act a parent's part? If he who provideth not for his 
own family is worse than an infidel ; if on the contrary, he who 
watches over the interests of his offspring presents a spectacle 
so lovely as to afford a representation of the benignity of 
heaven ; how much more imperative is the obligation and how 
much more beautiful is the spectacle, of a community covering 
with her protecting wings her tender brood of orphans ! The 
laws require that in their minority, heirs should be protected 
by others — there is an equal necessity that the youth of those 
who are left heirs to the poverty and wretchedness of life should 
be shielded from present danger, and prepared for future 
action. But as in this case there is no remuneration, law has 
left them unprovided for, and charity must take them up. 

Were the claims of the orphan not thus demonstrably a debt 
of love, and founded on a sense of justice, the necessity of such 
a provision for these destitute children, would urge it upon us. 
They are cast upon the community, and cannot be removed 
except by a practice as inhuman as it is sinful. Their support 
must be drawn from the bosom of society in some way. They 
constitute a necessary, irremovable tax. And the question 
simply is, in what form shall this tax be paid? voluntarily, as a 
gift, by which the recipients may be laid under the obligations of 
gratitude — remedially, as a preventive of future ignorance, vice 
and crime — or involuntarily when it becomes necessary for pun- 
ishment and self preservation? We must pay this tax through 
the Orphan House, and the labours of early discipline and in- 
struction, or through the Poor House, the Penitentiary, and 
the Hospital. If then by an equal expenditure, or less, we can 
secure good citizens, instead of such as will be injurious and 
burdensome, self-interest, nay selfishness itself, will plead for 
its adoption. 

But it is not on these grounds we would rest the claims, or 
establish the merits of this institution. It is just and necessary 
that it should exist, it is much more noble, patriotic, benevolent 
and christian. To have a proper estimate of the greatness of 
this charity, consider the extent of that misery which it relieves, 
the absolute destitution, the abandoned hopelessness of those 
who are its objects, cast from the wrecked vessel of their child- 
hood's home, and left struggling in their helplessness, amid 
the waves of life's ocean "into tempest wrought." Consider 
too, the extensive benefits which it confers. It finds these chil- 

27— Vol. v. 


dren orphans, it provides them with guardians ; they are with- 
out covering, it decently clothes them; they are destitute of 
food, it daily nourishes them ; they are liable to all the pains and 
sickness of our mortal state, here is a physician, there is a balm 
in this Gilead;* ignorant, they are here enlightened in that 
knowledge which will fit them for entering successfully upon 
the competition of life; destined to immortality, they are here 

"To think that early he must think at last." 

Their physical, moral, and intellectual well-being is thus 
advanced. They grow in stature, they increase in knowledge, 
and they should grow in favor with their God. Nor are these 
advantages limited to the period of their domestication in the 
institution ; it is extended to them when they make their perilous 
entrance upon the world beyond. They are followed by the eye 
of guardianship and kind attention into the rough paths of life, 
that their asperities may be smoothed as far as is possible in 
this valley of the shadow of death. Nor is this all. As the 
gifts of God are imparted without any respect to rank or per- 
son, the steel is applied to the flint, that if there are any latent 
sparks of genius they may be elicited, and the character and 
value of the stone determined. When nature thus discovers 
under the rough and unpromising appearance of outward pov- 
erty, some hidden gem or pearl of great price, it is not aban- 
doned, but is at once put into the hands of the artist, that it 
may be wrought into beauty and give forth its splendour. And 
have not some of the proudest ornaments of society, stars of 
the first magnitude in the constellation of earthly glory, risen 
upon the view, from the dark night of poverty and wretched- 

Consider again as characteristic of the greatness of this char- 
ity, the permanence of its results. In thus blessing children it 
blesses men, for 

Childhood shows the man, 
As morning shows the day. 

In thus elevating their character, it is exalting the reputation 
of the coming age, for here it is emerging into life through 
their life. If these are suffered to pass through childhood 
unimproved, they will arrive at manhood in the full maturity of 
guilt and hardy villainy. And not only so, before you are the 
future parents of a remote posterity, extending from them in 
ever widening branches. What do I say? Before you are the 
future legislators of their country, who will perpetuate her lib- 
erties or betray them. In this country, in the munificence of a 

*And here let me pay a just tribute to the care and attention of the 
attending Physician, in view of the remarkable health enjoyed by the 
children during the past year. 


liberality only equalled by its liberty, you have extended to all 
her citizens, the equal privilege of controlling her high destinies. 
This universal boon will be wise, — it will not be certainly and 
necessarily destructive of all liberty — only by rendering all 
worthy of the privilege and capable of the duty. The mon- 
strous chasm which in other nations separates the higher from 
the lower classes has been here filled up, and all may walk 
abroad in the conscious dignity of being equal among equals in 
point of civil privilege. But forget not, oh my country — let it 
be engraven upon thy councils as if written by the finger of 
heaven — that the humbler classes, and not the highest, consti- 
tute the broad basis of the pyramid of society, and that security 
exists only so long as it is preserved in soundness, that is virtu- 
ous and wise. Even here — in these orphan chidren, there are 
entrusted to you, to mould and fashion as you will, a Spartan 
band, which if imbued with the spirit of piety and its kindred 
spirit, true liberty, may yet throw themselves into some future 
Thermopylae, and preserve the liberties of their country. 
"These are your ramparts." 

Oh my adopted country! while fear and doubt harrass and 
perplex me, as I look out upon the clouds and thick darkness 
which settle over thee, may I offer for thee this prayer — May 
thy youth be numerous as the drops of the morning dew, and 
filled like them with the pure light of heaven. May they refresh 
and strengthen that liberty which has been sown in blood, and 
watered in tears, and reflect thy glory in increasing lustre to 
every nation and to every age. 

How serviceable to the public is this charity! It binds 
together the rich and the poor. Here they meet each other and 
embrace, acknowledging their common humanity and equal 
citizenship. By this giving and receiving, this protecting and 
being protected, they are cemented by an inseparable imion of 
peace and good will. Thus have we seen the earth send up its 
vapors to the heavens, gathering around them in all the glory 
and splendor of an evening sky — and those heavens again 
returning them to the earth in showers and dew, which make 
glad and fructify the face of nature. 

While we thus contemplate the future blessings of this char- 
ity, let us not forget its present and immediate good. It is 
before you. Look upon these children. While many per- 
chance this day are shedding orphans' tears, they are filled 
with all the sportive joy of life's young dawn. Look upon 
these children. Are they not yours? Without parents you 
have taught them to feel the throbbings of filial love and filial 
piety. Snatched from the lion jaw of stern necessity, they 
have received beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and 
the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. By 


thoroughly, virtuously and religiously educating these children, 
you will bestow upon them a guide and a comforter through 
life — you will prepare them to guide and comfort others ; you 
will fit them for a better performance of whatever duty they 
may be called to discharge; you will send them forth into 
society to exert a happy influence on all around them. 

Is not this charity twice blessed? 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes, 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, 
Upon the place beneath. 

It rises as a fragrant incense, breathing joy into the hearts of 
those above. 

This blessing, this joy, members of Council, Commissioners 
and Benefactors of the Charleston Orphan House, have been 
yours. Thirteen hundred and fifty-five children, without father, 
without mother, have been received and provided for by your 
bountiful exertions. One hundred and fifteen children are 
here today, like wild flowers gathered from the desert and 
transplanted into garden soil, to fill your souls with admiration 
and delight. Altogether, fourteen hundred and seventy cap- 
tives redeemed from the hard bondage of misfortune, and 
restored to their home, their country, and to happiness. Lib- 
erality worthy this city of the south, and brightest gem in Caro- 
lina's crown of glory! 

In addition to the ordinary means for the temporal and spir- 
itual comfort of these your children, an infant and sabbath 
school has been established, where they might receive still 
further instruction, — a commissioners' fund has been formed, 
which is expended in assisting those who have left the institu- 
tion, and whose good conduct gives them claim to such relief ; 
the City Council, with that public spirited liberality which is the 
true public economy, have made provision for the preparatory 
education of a limited number of boys who may be selected by 
the commissioners as worthy of a college course, — two boys are 
supported by the Legislature of the State at its own institu- 
tion, — while another is pursuing his preparatory studies for 
professional life by the munificent provision of an individual, 
who was actuated to this deed of charity by that spirit which 
was imparted to him while a member of this same institution. 
There is also a funded bequest, the interest of which is for the 
education of a boy of suitable talents and disposition, for the 
ministry of the Gospel, in any christian community he may 

Nor have you, respected friends, labored in vain, and spent 
your strength for nought. While there have been instances of 
melancholy disappointment, to call forth your sorrowing regrets 
— and these, as in all similar cases, have stood forth in prom- 


inence by the very publicity of their scandal — have not the 
great proportion of your beneficiaries spent useful and indus- 
trious lives, amid the quiet and unobtrusive virtues of domestic 
life? Are not three of them filling high and important stations 
in the navy of their country, and may you not with parental 
honor claim your sons among the honored and useful members 
of the pulpit and the bar? 

We rejoice when some vessel which has been buffetted by 
the rough tempest, and of whose safety we were solicitous, 
having ridden out the storm, is seen entering the harbor with 
her colors streaming in the wind — and shall we not much more 
rejoice when we behold these goodly spirits saved from that 
storm in which they must needs have wrecked, and safely har- 
bored in this port of peace? 

We all laud, and justly, the man who by his skill or efforts 
contributes to the comfort and pleasure of society — and what 
praises are due to those who deliver it from the sources of 
more pestilence and death, and by the same means replenish it 
with worthy and virtuous citizens? 

The man who by his wealth has founded some institution, 
or erected some noble building to adorn his city or country, 
deserves, as he receives, the gratitude of posterity ; but how 
much more available to the beauty and exaltation of society is 
that expenditure, which fills it with noble spirits, elevates 
natures, and souls garnished with all the lineaments of virtue? 
Such reward, friends and benefactors of this asylum, such 
reward is yours. 

"Think not the good, 
The gentle deeds of mercy you have done. 
Shall die forgotten all ; the poor, the wretched, 
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow, 
Who daily on the bounty of your hands, 
Shall cry to heaven, and pull a blessing on you." 

In the bright visions of the future glories of this my adopted 
country, I see the alumni of this institution enrolled among her 
brightest sons, and most useful and devoted daughters — filling 
with noble and high-minded citizens, the marts of commerce, 
the plantations of agriculture, the ranks of war, and the seats 
of legislative wisdom. Is this all a vision of the fancy? Or is 
it ever to be realized? This depends on the continued and 
increased efforts for the preservation and improvement of their 
asylum, of you, Honorable Members of Council, of you, espe- 
cially, respected Commissioners, on you, still more immediately, 
though not more truly, officers and instructors, and, above all, 
upon you, the children for whom all these efforts are put forth. 

I have had other and fitter opportunities for pressing upon 
you, my dear children, your duty to your Saviour and your 
God. Let me take this occasion, with all the interest which its 
publicity affords, to infix within your minds this one encourag- 


ing truth, that to you the successful pursuit of the advantages 
of social life, is as open, as free, and as hopeful, as perhaps to 
any other class of youth. The prospect of entering upon the 
possession of wealth, without personal exertion, too generally 
enervates the character and deprives it forever of that power of 
self-government, and that spirit of confidence which will under- 
take and accomplish whatever is attainable. It is in the school 
of adversity, it is under the teaching of stern necessity, it is 
when there is no other prompter to genius than its own innate 
aspirations, that these inestimable qualities, which the wealth of 
Croesus could not purchase, are secured. It is good, my dear 
children, to bear the yoke in your youth. So says scripture. 
So speaks experience. There is, believe me, no hopelessness 
around your future. You need not look forward as to darkness 
and despair. On the contrary, there is every thing to breed 
within you high purposes of future eminence. If, children, you 
will only now, in the days of your youth, seek God, hear the 
voice of instruction, improve all the advantages you enjoy, and 
cherish a spirit of strict rectitude, what is there you may not in 
future life attain? Honest, upright, industrious, humble, unas- 
suming and christian in your deportment, who will not rejoice 
to take you by the hand and help you up the steep ascent to 
competence, to wealth, to honor, and to glory? 

Do you wish to become respectable in the mechanic arts of 
life? Almost all who are or have been so, have pressed their 
way through the extremest difficulties, have begun on nothing 
and lived on little, until they have secured to themselves com- 
petence and ease. Or do you pant after the fame of those who 
have fought their country's battles, and braved for her danger 
and death? We might point you in addition to others to be 
mentioned, to Henry Knox and Philip Schuyler, both eminent 
among our revolutionary patriots. Do you cherish the holy 
purpose of being consecrated to the ministry of heaven ? Have 
not some of its brightest and most burning lights, trimmed their 
lamps in youthful obscurity, received their education at the 
hand of charity, or soared aloft on their own unaided wing to 
the greatest height of usefulness and labor? I might instance 
Jeremy Taylor, the Milton of the English Church, and in Mor- 
rison and Carey, the modern apostles of China and of India.* 
Do you aspire to eminence in the noble science of law ? Sir 
Edward Coke, the author of "the Institutes of the laws of Eng- 
land," and one of the most eminent of her lawyers, was still 
young when he was left to be his own master. And Blackstone, 
author of the Commentaries on the laws of England, and the 
founder of their science, was early in life deprived of both his 

*Chrysostom, the most celebrated of the Fathers, was deprived of his 
father in infancy. 


parents. This loss, says his biographer, "proved in its conse- 
quences, the reverse of misfortune to our author : to that cir- 
cumstance probably he was indebted for his future advance- 
ment, and that high literary character and reputation in his 
profession which he has left behind him; to that circumstance 
the public, too, is probably indebted for the benefit it has 
received and will receive as long as the law of England remains, 
from the labors of his pen.f Do you desire to enroll your name 
upon the list of philosophers and other scientific and literary 
worthies, who shine so resplendently in the intellectual 
heavens? The father of Adam Smith died some months 
before his birth, while his own constitution during infancy was 
weak and sickly. The celebrated German metaphysical phil- 
osopher Kant, was the son of a harness maker, and early lost 
both his parents. Our own Washington Irving was left father- 
less to pursue his own fame and fortune when very young. 
And above all. Sir Isaac Newton, the prince of philosophers, 
was in his infancy without a father, was so weakly as to have 
his life despaired of, and was sent at an early age to a distant 

Do you emulate the glory of a patriot and statesman? The 
father of George Canning died the year after his birth, and left 
his family after having been long oppressed by the hard hand 
of vexatious need, unprovided and wholly destitute. $ Henry 
Clay was in like manner early deprived of his father, and owes 
all his education to a common school. William Wirt, the late 
Attorney General, lost both his parents young. The father of 
John Hancock deceased during his infancy, and he was cast on 
the kindness of a relative. Alexander Hamilton, whose life is 
so interwoven with the history of the American Revolution, and 
with the formation and adoption of the Constitution of the 
United States, was deprived of his mother when a child, while 
his father lived in pecuniary dependence. Andrew Jackson's 
father died immediately after his birth, and his mother while he 
was yet young. And Washington, the father of his country, 
was also made to feel in his early youth the want of a father's 

If then, children, any of you fail to arrive at competence, 
honor, or eminence in future life, it will be, not because you 
are orphans, but because you have failed to embrace fully the 
privileges you now enjoy, or to cultivate the habits and virtues 
to which you are now so constantly urged. 

And now, children, under the encouraging influence of this 
truth, you will retire from this scene to the festivities of this 
hallowed day. Yield your hearts to the pleasures of the occa- 

tBlackstone, vol. I, p. 5. 

tSee Speeches of George Canning, Vol. I, p. 7. 


sion, and with your joyous acclamations let your bosoms swell 
with gratitude to Him who has provided for you a home and a 
parent's kindness in the hearts of christians ; and when you 
retire this evening to your couch, pray to your Father in heaven 
that he may make you partakers of his heavenly spirit, adopt 
you into his heavenly family, and evermore bless and befriend 

And now, fellow citizens, need I say more to encourage and 
stimulate you to continued and increased liberality towards this 
most useful and laudable institution? The first step towards 
reaction and failure in any design is the supposition that we 
have already attained it. When this takes possession of the 
mind, it relaxes its energy and checks its further efiforts. Think 
not then, you have completed your institution, but forgetting 
what had been already accomplished, press forward towards the 
mark of ultimate and entire perfection. 

What has been done towards the establishment of a library 
worthy the Institution ? Has it a philosophic and other suitable 
apparatus ? Are its schools well supplied with all that is neces- 
sary to advance their objects? Is it possible or desirable to 
provide for the specific education of the children in the different 
branches of art and business ? Could their labors in the acquisi- 
tion of such an education be made available to their own sup- 
port and the enlargement of the plans of the Institution ? This 
question I can suggest with more confidence, as I find it was 
urged upon your attention by our late Hon. Mayor.* Could 
any further means be employed for awakening and fostering 
talent? Could instruction be imparted to the children in that, 
oftentimes most useful, and at all times most delightful and ele- 
vating, art of music? In an institution in Germany, out of 
two hundred orphans, all except two had acquired this knowl- 
edge. Would not a committee of correspondence with other 
similar institutions in this and other countries, and by which 
their comparative advantages might be known, probably lead to 
many valuable suggestions? Were the fund of the commis- 
sioners sufficiently increased, might it not be found of incal- 
culable importance in assisting, in their entrance upon the busi- 
ness or duties of life, those who have left the Institution, but 
who are still friendless and pennyless ? 

What immeasurable good might in this way be accomplished ! 
How great is the opportunity still afforded of improving and 
advancing the interests of this asylum ! How boundless the 
sphere for talent and benevolence ! 

And shall these not be forthcoming? Having done so well, 
will you not still more abound in this labor of love? When the 
Empress Catharine founded the hospital for foundlings at 

*Report to the City Council by Hon. R. Y. Hayne. 


Mocow, a person unknown sent a box containing fifty thousand 
rubles, accompanied with these words : "He who takes the Hb- 
erty to offer this, will have completely obtained his desire, if, 
by means of this gift, Russia shall at some future day, have 
one more reasonable subject, one happy man, one virtuous citi- 
zen." Let your liberality this day, let your future beneficence 
while you live and when you come to die, attest to heaven and 
earth your just sense of the value and importance of this noble 
and productive charity. 

And what a field, my christian friends, is opened to your 
labors in the Sabbath School connected with the Institution? 
Is it true? Can it be, that from so many churches, there are 
not enough of interested, zealous, devoted followers of the Son 
of God, to hear the cry of the orphan, whose spiritual destitu- 
tions are as great as their physical and intellectual necessities, 
and to impart to them that knowledge in which standeth eternal 

Methinks it is enough, after what you have heard, to suggest 
these things to your minds, in order to enkindle there a readi- 
ness to do all, and more than all that is desired. The sight of 
these "poor orphans, whose minds were left as unclothed and 
naked altogether as their bodies, and who were exposed to all 
the temptations of ignorance, want, and idleness," of whom you 
are the common guardians, will appeal to your sympathies and 
call forth charity, more powerfully than any pleas of mine. 

Were there, however, one individual present whose heart was 
untouched by their misery, or unaffected by their tale of silent 
suffering, to such an one would I say: Hadst thou a mother? 
Hast thou ever felt the kind warmth of a mother's bosom ? — the 
sweetness of a mother's kisses? — the tenderness of a mother's 
embrace ? — and the unchanging devotedness of a mother's love ? 
In sickness did she comfort you? In health did she delight in 
you? — weeping with you when you wept, and rejoicing with 
you when you rejoiced? Did she live in your life, prosper in 
your prosperity, and feel every joy doubled by participation 
with yourself? Has she become to you, as it were, an abiding 
presence? — a ministering angel? — a heaven of the sweetest and 
purest recollections? a pole-star to guide your weary way 
through life's toilsome journey? And is the sanctuary above 
made more dear because it is the dwelling place of that now 
sainted mother? These children never knew (or knowing 
cease to know) what it is thus to enjoy and bless their mother. 
Like the orphan in the Greek tragedy, they may say — 

— for the time when in a mother's arms, 
I in her fondness should have known some joy 
Of life — from that sweet care was I estranged, 
A mother's nurture.* 

*The Ion of Euripides, line 1427-1430. See vol. I. Transl., by Potter. 


Hadst thou a father? — whose name and image you saw 
enstamped upon yourself, who looked upon you with pride, 
who felt in yours his own existence prolonged and his own 
character perpetuated, who gloried in struggling with the hard 
adversities of life that he might clothe and feed and nourish 
you, who called you his own son, his hope and promise, who 
inculcated the spirit of manliness and truth and godliness, and 
brought you up to usefulness and honor? And did you love 
that father? Did you reverence him in your infant days even 
as God? Did you obey him as unerring guide? And do 
you now look back upon him with high and holy thankfulness to 
God who gave you such a father? These children can never 
know a father's care. 

No more they smile upon their Sire ! no friend 
To help them now ! no father to defend. 
The day that to the grave the father sends 
Robs the sad orphan of his father's friends, t 

They are left alone — to pilot their boisterous way — over the 
stormy sea of life, — under an angry sky — in a night of dark- 
ness, — with blackening tempest all ahead. 

Like your blessed Saviour, rebuke that selfishness wihich 
would forbid these children to come even to your heart and 
awake your kindliest interest. Take them up in your arms 
and bless them. Let this mind be in you which was also in 
Christ Jesus. And if there be any consolation in Christ, if any 
comfort of love, if any fellowship of the spirit, if any bowels 
and mercies, fulfil ye this work of heavenly charity to which by 
the providence of God you are so sweetly summoned. 

iHomer Iliad, B. 22. 




"Pure Religion, and undefiled before God and the Father is 
this : To visit the Fatherless in their affliction." 

The melody of the tuneful choir, the prayer of the ordained 
Minister of God, have already ascended to the throne of Grace ! 

Shall I essay, poor little orphan as I am, to add the feeble 
tribute of my appeal to Him, "from whom alone proceeds every 
good and perfect gift," to incline your hearts yet more, my 
christian friends, towards the righteous Charity, associated 
with this most interesting occasion? 

The Orphan's story is soon told. Affliction meets him in 
the cradle ! Sorrow marks him for her own ! and the history 
of one of these little creatures of your compassion, is the his- 
tory of tis all. 

I know not whether I can relate my own afflictions, but a 
dark dream has sometimes swept across my brain ; a wild — a 
dismal dream that will not break ! 

I was an infant almost when my Father died ; but I remem- 
ber, ere his eyes took an unearthly lustre and did fade, he 
folded me in 'his arms, and pressing his pallid lips upon my 
cheek, told me he had nothing to bequeath to his poor boy, but 
a father's blessing, and a father's kiss ! These were his last, his 
only legacy ! 

My Mother, borne down by sorrow, misery, and want, like 
Hagar with her child, going forth into the wilderness, took me 
into the wilderness of the world. But alas ! she led me not 
long. In a short time she laid, also, in the stillness of ever- 
lasting repose ! Her hands were stretched in motionless and 
marble coldness by her side. Yet her face was so serene, life's 
soft warmth still seemed to linger on her lips! I kissed her! 
'Twas the first time she returned not my caress ! I spoke to 
her, she replied not — yet she was so like my mother still, I 
could not think that she was dead, until they bore her away, 
and I stood by the side of her closing grave! I thought my 
little heart would break as I turned from that terrible spot! 
The earth to me was like one vast and dismal cemetery ! It had 
closed over all that had fondly loved me, and I was houseless, 
unfriended, and alojie — like the young twig, that had scattered 


its last leaf to the merciless wind, left to endure the wintry 
storm without the shelter of the Parent Stem ! 

To the blackest night, however, the brightest morn may suc- 
ceed ! As the sun may carry pestilence in his beams, the night 
may scatter healing from its sable wings ! 

Seldom does misfortune visit the world, abstracted from 
every quality of good ! When all is m.ost dark and threatening 
around, the Father of the fatherless, the God of all comfort, in 
order to bring them closer to himself, graciously permits the 
weak and perishing creatures of his power to experience his 
goodness — to see some Star shining in the darkness, to cheer 
their drooping spirits — to hear some kind voice telling of a 
home, where the wretched may fly for comfort, and the weary 
for repose ! 

Here, with choking utterance, I turn to you, my generous 
benefactors, and ask, but for your timely sympathy and support, 
uihere should I have been now — zvhere my little innocent asso- 
ciates ? Alas ! you may as well ask, where the scattered leaves 
of Autumn lie; the yellow leaves, that for a moment flutter in 
the wind, and then settle down amongst their withered com- 
panions on the cold, cold ground ; the last sad refuge "of the 
fallen, the faded, and forlorn !" Ah ! well may it be asked, 
•where should we have been now, but for this blessed institu- 
tion? In some hovel of poverty and crime, perhaps, uttering 
blasphemy and lies instead of the Morning and Evening prayer 
you have taught us to pronounce ! Oh ! it is awful to think, 
into what an abyss of misery, here and hereafter, we might 
have been plunged, unless, like the wearied dove, we had found 
from the destroying deluge of sin, a shelter in this holy ark ! 

I am told the age in which we live, is one of unexampled 
benevolence — that Angels have assumed the forms of humanity 
— that the Sick are visited in their affliction — the Poor have the 
gospel preached to them ! We can bear blessed testimony, I 
am sure, that God has put it especially into the hearts of the 
humane, to provide for the destitute and fatherless ! 

What is it that prompts you to bestow a thought upon the 
Orphan? What is it that makes the heart melt with tender- 
ness at the cry of the poor and the needy? W'hat is it that 
gives to pity, its sweetest tear — to love, its most delicious smile 
— to feeling, its most generous impulse ? What is it that pleads 
for all these little ones so strongly in the bosom of the virtuous? 
It is thy voice, O Nature ! Queen of a sunny sky. waking up 
the affections in the coldest bosom, until they bloom and blos- 
som as the Rose ! 

I feel, we can look to you, generous friends, with confidence, 
for the means of a temporal education, and for an eternal hope. 

In the temple where we worship, it is written "Suffer little 


children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is 
the kingdom of Heaven." It is the mandate of Jehovah. Who 
shall gainsay it ? And oh ! what a harvest of merit and of con- 
solation, is thus given you to gather ! Without your mediation, 
it is easy for our heavenly parent to provide for those whom 
he has promised "to preserve alive," but he has chosen rather to 
associate you with Himself, in the beauty of his own holiness ; 
putting you as Clouds in the midst, to pour down on others, 
parched by the burning drought of the world, the dews and 
fertilizing rains you may receive from Him. 

Every encouragement is aflforded you to continue your alms 
and your prayers in our behalf. Already has the Almighty 
blessed our Institution, by sending forth into the world from 
among our humble band, characters conspicuous for their 
talents and their worth, and who knows what future Statesmen 
may exist even now within our walls, to be formed or lost 
according to the increase or want of your generosity? Let us 
hope that many signal distinctions are in store for us, and is it 
expecting too much, that the instruments of good to society will 
not be confined to one sex alone, but that even from among the 
more helpless objects of your bounty, there may, also, go forth 
with the blessing of God, many a modest Rebecca — many a 
devout Hannah — many an humble and pious Mary — many an 
affectionate Rachel, that beloved and loving wife, that beautiful 
mother of Israel ! 

Love, then, these little Orphans for your own sake. Regard 
them as your brethren. Cherish them as your offspring. Con- 
sider them, as our blessed Saviour himself did, in order that 
when he shall appear again in his glory, and all the Angels of 
Heaven with him, he may say unto you on the great day : 

"Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom pre- 
pared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was 
an hungered, and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave 
me drink : naked, and ye clothed me !" 

You will wondering say, "Lord, when saw we thee an hun- 
gered, and fed thee; or thirsty and gave thee drink; naked and 
clothed thee?" 

But the King upon the throne of his glory will answer and 
say, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto the least of these my little ones, you have done it 
unto Me!" 



Oh ! Thou, who hear'st our orphan sighs, 
When lowly at thy throne we bend. 

Let this our happier hymn arise, 
And to thy mercy seat ascend. 

Our infant hours began in gloom. 
No ray of worldly joy was near ; 

Cold want destroyed our early bloom, 
Pale sorrow called our early tear. 

But, Charity, thy genial light 

Burst thro' the shade and cheered our way, 
And kindlier still, revealed to sight 

The glories of the Gospel day. 

Great God, for those whose fostering love 
Has gently nurtured our young powers. 

We pray, that blessings from above 
May lightly wing their earthly hours. 

And when the solemn day draws near. 
That calls our rescued souls to thee, 

Together may we all appear. 
And mingle in eternity. 

The Successful Merchant 

Lessons of His Life and Death. 





By Rev. Thomas Smyth. 

28— Vol. v. 

Written at and after leaving Virginia Springs, on the way 
home. On account of yellow fever in Charleston, Mr. Adger's 
body was not brought on till middle of November, when it was 
buried. On that occasion, in accordance with the feelings of 
the family, I was one of the family, the Rev. Mr. Girar- 
deau officiated. This was read to the family circle on Sabbath 
afterwards, in the evening. 


Christian Friends and Brethren : 

The first thought which overwhelms me in addressing you 
on this occasion is a personal one. It is that I should be the 
author and not the subject of a funeral address — the speaker 
and not the spoken of — a mourner and not as I am sure I 
should have been had Mr. Adger been the survivor, one sin- 
cerely and affectionately mourned. Except on one occasion, 
some years since, I never associated the thought of out-living 
with the departed. For although Mr. Adger was old and well 
stricken in years, he had a young heart in a body of iron frame 
and indomitable energy, with a constitution combining many of 
the most reliable powers for nourishing and preserving its 
vitality, and its even, calm and cheerful temperament, with a 
regularity, temperance and moderation both in eating and 
drinking, and with an activity of mind and body which sup- 
plied exercise and excitement conducive to the vigorous per- 
petuity of both. 

He was not old, he could not be old, 

Though e'en threescore years and ten 
Have wasted away, like a tale that is told. 

The lives of most other men. 

He looked above, and was ever young, 

Buoyant and brave and bold, 
And his heart could sing, as of yore it sung 

Before they called him old. 

For ever young, though life's old age 

Hath every nerve unstrung : 
The heart — the heart is a heritage 

That keeps the old man young. 

It was truly so with Mr. Adger. He had renewd his youth 
like the eagles. His sight had improved. His appetite was 
good — ^his eye bright and his steps firm. His attendance at his 
place of business and to every interest of his commercial rela- 
tions, his several children's families was constant, and he 
appeared to have passed the last climacteric of life and to have 
descended into the valley shadowed by the grave, to enjoy an 
Indian summer and a luxuriant autumn before the snows of 
winter and the frosts of death should fall upon him. 

It was under the warm sunshine of such halcyon days that 
early memories thronged around him — old times, old manners, 
and old friends — and he felt a longing desire to revisit the 
scenes of early days and the companions of his youthful strug- 
gles, and to cast one last and lingering look upon a picture 


which time's many changes had made as painful as it was in 
itself pleasant. 

How unanticipated and unlikely then on the ground of 
human probabilities that he should be taken and that I should 
be left — that his voice should be silent in death and my voice 
cry aloud unto the living to lay to heart the admonitory appeal 
from this coffin and these enclosed and mouldering remains — 
"all flesh is grass and all the glory of man as the flower of the 
grass." Gotthold enumerates twenty-two persons of imperial, 
royal, or princely rank who fell withered by the sharp air of 
death within a single year. And within a less period how 
many bright and beautiful flowers, how many young, vigorous 
and strong — how many hopeful trees in full blossom and even 
laden with fruit, have been blasted by the cold air of death. 
How many, too, by some sudden sweep of the tempest or by 
some invisible agency have been cut down and perished. A 
Christian merchant leans upon his wife's arm to walk across his 
own bedchamber, and falls motionless at her feet. A beloved 
pastor, fresh from the scenes of Pentecost in his church, is 
stricken with paralysis — exclaims, "This is death," lies down 
on his pillow, and soon sinks gently into the sleep that "knows 
no waking." A venerable professor is snatched from his 
theological class before he can speak to them his fatherly fare- 
well. Two beloved pastors, one reaping the harvest of twenty- 
one years of faithful and earnest labours and yet naturally 
counting upon years of vigorous ministration, and one in the 
very zenith of his shining talents and in the springtime of a 
most admired and effective ministry and with a heart beating 
true to all the great evangelical enterprises and spiritual unions 
of this hopeful age — go down below the horizon, or rather 
above this lower sphere, while it was yet day. 

From all these new-made graves, desolated homes, and silent 
pulpits, and from this sacred treasury of a venerated poem, a 
solemn voice is whispering to each heart present, "Be thou 
also ready." 

The road is short, the rest is long ; 
The Lord brought here, he calls away : 

Make no delay, 
This house is for a passing day. 

How powerfully also are we made to feel that it is not by 
prudence nor by power that we live — that the batttle is not to 
the strong, nor the race to the swift, but that we live by the 
might of Him in whose hands are the issues of live and death, 
and as life is short at longest and uncertain always, you who 
hear and I who speak may be almost home. The grave may 
be ready for us and death standing at the door, and our coffins 
and our shroud prepared. Well then may each of us, as we 
look upon the closed door of this poor dwelling and the depart- 


ure to return no more of him who erstwhile sojourned in it, 
exclaim : 

Thou art in heaven, and I am still on earth ; 

'Tis months, long months, since we were parted here, 

I still a wanderer amid grief and fear, 

And thou the tenant of a brighter sphere. 

Yet still thou seemest near ; 

But yesterday it seems 

Since the last clasp was given, 

Since our lips met. 

And our eyes looked into each other's depths. 

Thou art amid the deathless, I still here. 
Amid things mortal, in a land of graves, 
A land o'er which the heavy-beating waves 
Of changing time move on, a land where raves 

The storm, which whoso braves 

Must have his anchor fixed. 

Firmly within the veil ; — 

So let my anchor be ; 

Such be my consolation and my hope ! 

Thou art amid the sorrowless, I here, 
Amid the sorrowing ; and yet not long 
Shall I remain 'mid sin, and fear, and wrong. 
Soon shall I join you in your sinless song. 

Thy day has come, not gone. 

Thy sun has risen, not set. 

Thy life is now beyond 

The reach of death or change ; 

Not ended but begun. 

Such shall our life be soon, 

And then. — the meeting-day. 

How full of light and joy ! 

All fear of change cast out. 

All shadows passed away, 

The union sealed for ever 

Between us and our Lord. 

rVnother thought very strongly and immediately awakened 
by this event is the shortsighted ignorance of man, the inscrut- 
able mystery of divine providence, and our absolute helpless- 
ness and dependence upon God. Mr. Adger left home not to 
recover health nor in failing weakness, but to enjoy a season 
of relaxation, refreshment and social reunion, and all this until 
the day of his sickness he had most pleasantly realized. And 
3'-et it is now certain that wdien he left his home he left it never 
to return. He set out upon his last journey. Every step was 
a step to 'his grave. Every day's employment was a prepara- 
tion for his burial. Every change of scene was a shifting of 
the panoramic view to make way for the last great change. 
Every passing hour tolled the knell which in solemn warning 
proclaimed that the hour of his departure was at hand. And 
yet he heard it not. He knew not what awaited him. There 
was nothing in the heavens or on the earth, nothing above, 
beneath or within him that forewarned him that he was about 
to depart out of this world. In a strange city, in a wayside 
inn, on the eve of his journey homewards, and after saying to 


his ministering^ angel, "Daughter, I have done all that I wished 
and am now ready to leave tomorrow," the summons came — 
and the voice said : 

The Lord brought here, He calls away : 

Make no delay ; 
Death to thy heavenly home is now thy way. 

And as it was with Mr. Adger so is it with you, and me, and 
all of us. In the midst of life we are in death. We know not 
what a day or even an hour may bring forth. Disease lurks in 
every breeze. Death has every possible variety of form and all 
seasons for its own. Men die and return to the dust at every 
age, in every condition, and always, perhaps, in such a way and 
in such an hour as they think not. In the morning they flour- 
ish in 'health and hope — in the evening they are cut down and 
withered. Their breasts may be full of milk and their bones of 
marrow and they may boast themselves of their strength and 
say "tomorrow shall be as this day and much more abundant." 
But the wind passeth over them, and they are gone. And thus 
it is that as there is no man living that shall not see death, so 
of that day and hour knoweth no man. The hour — the when 
— and the where — of death are mysteries hidden from the 
wisest and most prudent, and which by all his searching and all 
the science and far-reaching wisdom of man he cannot unveil. 

My brethren, we are ready in our ignorance to say that 
health and sickness, life and death, are matters of chance — 
contingent fortuities. But, thanks be to God, they are not. 
Reason and religion alike teach us that no event can occur 
fortuitously under the government of an omniscient, omnipo- 
tent, omnipresent and infinitely wise and gracious God, and that 
of all events those which affect the immortal destinies of undy- 
ing creatures will be most carefully directed and made to work 
together for the accomplishment of their eventful purposes by 
Him who seeth the end from the beginning, by whom the very 
hairs of our head are numbered, who has appointed our 
bounds so that we cannot pass, to whom our days are 
those of an hireling, and by whom even the number of our 
months are recorded. The story of each life and the history 
of every individual are written out by the finger of God in the 
book of life. In God's book all their members were written 
when as yet there was none of them. A book of remembrance 
is written before God for our very thoughts. Every idle 
word, too, is taken account of in this infallible record. Every 
deed done in the body is written out as with a pen of iron. 
Our very tears are. He assures us, put into His bottle and 
remembered in His book. Our names, too, are inscribed in this 
book of life. And how much more certainly, then, is the time 
and manner of our death known unto and arranged by Him 


who could sigTiify in minutest accuracy in what manner and at 
what time His disciples should die. 

Blessed and all-satisfying assurance! I am not an atom 
blown about by winds, or a leaf torn by ruthless destiny from 
the tree of life. 

My God ! I know not hozv I die, 

For death has many ways to come — 
In dark, mysterious agony, 

Or gently as a sleep to some. 
Just as Thou wilt ! if but it be 
For ever blessed, Lord, with Thee. 

My God ! I know not zvhere I die. 

Where is my grave, beneath what strand ? 

Yet from its gloom I do rely 
To be delivered by Thy hand. 

Content, I take what spot is mine. 

Since all the earth, my Lord, is Thine. 

My gracious God I when I must die, 

Oh ! bear my happy soul above, 
With Christ, my Lord, eternally 

To share Thy glory and Thy love ! 
Then comes it right and well to me, 
When, where, and how my death shall be ? 

And, my brethren, the production of just such a state of holy, 
humble, confiding reliance upon God and resignation to His 
will is doubtless the purpose for which God has arranged the 
constitution of man and the laws of nature as to keep man in 
ignorance of His future and make death always uncertain. 

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, 

'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge. 

How little do we know that which we are ! 

How less what we may be ! The eternal surge 

Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 
Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge, 

Lash'd from the foam of ages ; while the graves 

Of empires heave but like some passing waves. 

The laws of nature and the mutual adaptation of laws to 
one another are framed so as to lead to the most complicated 
and what would seem to us fortuitous results. All events are 
equally certain and equally the result of adequate causes and 
natural laws. But while one class of events proceed from 
causes so arranged as to lead to general fixed and calculable 
results, there are manifold events which are consequent upon 
causes so disposed as to lead to results which are particular 
and personal. Circumstances and their relations to each other 
are so combined as to accomplish a specific purpose. The laws 
of nature are the same. The causes are the same. But their 
combination is so arranged as to lead to a designed result. 
And this uncertainty is found more especially, though not 
exclusively, in those departments of nature with which man is 
most intimately connected. Comte has classified the phe- 
nomena of nature according to this distinction as those which 


are simple and comprehensible, and those which are special and 
complicated, and he tells us truly that those which are simple 
and capable of being scientifically arranged are at the farthest 
distance from man and the farthest removed from humanity, 
while those which cannot are those most directly interesting to 
man. In other words, man is impotent in regard to the objects 
whose laws he can discover and he is ignorant and dependent 
in regard to the objects nearest himself and with which he is 
most intimately connected. Man's foreknowledge of events 
is on the inverse ratio of his power to control them. So that 
in astronomy, geology, chemistry, mathematics, where he 
knows much and can restore the past and reveal the future, he 
is powerless, and as in the vegetable and animal kingdom, in 
meteorology, physiology, atmospheric changes and whatever, in 
short, affects health and life, man's knowledge is exceedingly 
limited and his ignorance incomparably greater. He can tell 
the changes among the heavenly bodies millions and billions 
of miles distant for centuries past and for ages to come and 
restore to panoramic view the condition and inhabitants of the 
earth cycles of ages before its present period, but he cannot 
tell what shall be the conditions of the atmosphere tomorrow 
or what shall then be the condition of his own body or of those 
on whose life he lives and in whose love he is happy. "The 
objects within the range of man's foresight are placed beyond 
his power, while the objects within his power lie beyond his 
foresight." All that is necessary to activity, enterprise and 
hope is certain, but all that relates to his individual welfare, 
his comfort, health and life is inscrutably veiled and kept 
under the exclusive direction of divine providence. 

Neither can it be ever otherwise. All such expectations are 
vain and unreasonable. God's ways are equal. Man is as 
ignorant and helpless and dependent now as in the earliest 
ages of the world, however much he has increased in general 
and scientific knowledge. And in regard to all those changes 
which affect his life and death, man will be as ignorant and as 
helplessly dependent in all time to come as he is now. For 
whatever may be the development of man's knowledge in 
things beyond his reach, it can add nothing to his power or 
practical control. And in regard to his ever-increasing knowl- 
edge in the vegetable and animal world, in regard to the agents 
of nature and the laws of health, his foreknowledge will still 
be very contracted. For they are so involved one with another 
in innumerable involutions and complicated changes of rela- 
tion, that it would require superhuman sagacity, nay, 
omniscient omnipresence, to foresee the results of these 
changes and omnipotent skill to alter and adapt them to his 
wishes. He may have knowledge and not foresight, and fore- 


sight without any power of action. Human sagacity and 
activity will ever be held in check by the fortuities and compli- 
cations still beyond his control. The more man knows the 
more he will feel his impotence. The further his knowledge 
of causes extends, the more boundless will be the view of 
objects beyond and of an ocean of mysterious providence, on 
the shores of which ihe can only sit and gaze, lost in wonder 
love and praise. And the greater and more extended become 
the activities of man, "they complicate more the relations of 
society, and the relations of man to the most capricious of the 
agents of nature, and the greater the power he exerts he feels 
himself the more powerless in the grasp of a higher power."* 

By the uniformities of nature God secures the confidence, 
progress, prosperity and happiness of man, and by the fortui- 
ties of nature God secures man's dependence, reverence, faith 
and obedience. 

Ah, my brethren, is it not so? Consider the changes going 
on in every particle of matter within and without our fearfully 
and wonderfully constructed body ; consider the peculiar con- 
stitution and temperament of each individual ; consider their 
various habits, tastes and actions ; consider the different rela- 
tive strength or weakness of mind and body, of nerve and 
muscle, of the organs of digestion and the organs of respira- 
tion ; consider the peculiarities in every conceivable form which 
combine to distinguish me from you and you from each other, 
and every man from every other man, and you will at once 
perceive that the uncertainty of human life and of the time and 
manner and place of death is a standing rule in the government 
of God. 

Death, therefore, is always mysterious and attended by many 
strange and to us apparently fortuitous circumstances. But it 
is never by chance nor from the dust, but by the providence of 
God, ordering events so as to bring about this result at the very 
time and place and in the manner of its occurrrence. 

Mr. Adger's death was natural, inasmuch as he had passed 
the present allotted boundary of human life. We may now 
also perceive how he may have been exposed to such atmos- 
pheric changes — unprotected — as brought him within the stern 
and relentless dominion of chemical laws in their triumphant 
conflict with his remaining powers of life ; and he was brought 
into the circumstances which resulted in death by influences to 
which he was willingly subjected. The overruling providence 
of God in thus arranging events so as to secure the result is 
thus most obvious. And in the pleasurable gratification he had 
enjoyed ; in his removal from the distracting cares of business ; 
in the doubtless complete arrangement which he had been led 



to make of all his affairs ; in the presence of so many members 
of his family and so many of his most loved kindred and 
friends; in the skillful assiduities of the most able and 
attentive physicians, and the abounding comforts and affec- 
tionate service which he enjoyed ; in the time given him to 
prepare his mind for his coming change ; in the preservation of 
unclouded reason, and of his usual calm and cheerful spirit; 
and in his freedom from pain and preservation from protracted 
suffering, we have the most comfortable evidence of the wis- 
dom and goodness which led God to select for him the death 
he met. The providence is mysterious, for it is the Lord ; but 
it is not dark. It is bright with beams of mercy and irradi- 
ated by many gleams from the sun of righteousness. 

It is, therefore, both our privilege and duty to see God in 
this event, to refer it to Him, and to feel that in very faithful- 
ness and with unerring skill He has done all things well, and 
that as the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, His name 
is to be blessed. Let all that is deep and unfathomable be 
referred to the never-failing skill and mercy of his Father and 
our Father, and let us deeply ponder and lay to heart the many 
lessons this event is adapted to teach us and which we may 
conclude to have been special ends designed by God. And, 
among the rest, let us learn our ignorance and helpless depen- 
dence and be thus led to live upon Him and to cast our cares 
and anxieties upon Him, that, in the language of good old 
Baxter, we may be able joyfully to say : 

Lord, it belongs not to my care, 

Whether I die or live ; 
To love and serve Thee is my share. 

And this Thy grace must give. 

If life be long, I will be glad, 

That I may long obey ; 
If short, yet why should I be sad 

To soar to endless day ?